


Touching the Horizon

by Hawkeye733



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Ladyhawke (1985)
Genre: Alternate Thedas, Alternate Universe, Angst, Animal Transformation, Cursed, F/M, Ladyhawke AU, Memory Loss, Minor Character Death, Slavery, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-04-11 05:46:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 85,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4423679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkeye733/pseuds/Hawkeye733
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“She is alive.” Fenris could not focus on much beyond that simple fact. He had been certain this was the end but now, as long as a heart beat in her chest, there was surely hope.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Alive, yes. As are you. I’m going to make you wish I had given you the sweet release of death.”</i>
</p><p>Riona Hawke, tired of the quiet life her family has settled into in Kirkwall, leaves to travel Thedas, discover more of the world. In Minrathous she finds love, a cruel trick of fate finds her soulmate in a lowly elven slave. His master is not pleased and in a vicious fury he curses them both to a life where they can never be with one another again. He is cursed to be a wolf during the night, while she is trapped as a hawk through the day. Never the twain shall meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Magister's Dance

**Author's Note:**

> The LadyHawke AU that this pairing was made for.  
> Think of this chapter as a prologue, pre-curse, and the events that lead to Riona falling in love. Before anger and jealousy tear them apart.

“The Lady Catriona Amell, of Kirkwall.” A man in a fine embroidered jacket called, holding out a hand that Hawke elegantly accepted as he assisted her first step onto the staircase.

The hall was swirling in colour, huge pillars along the edges of the room each bedecked in a different crest, presumably the sponsors of the event, hoping to flaunt the wealth at their disposal. She took in the long, finely cut robes of the men in the room, even the lady’s dresses styled to mimic the mage garb, lest anyone forget who made the high society of Tevinter.

Hawke shook her head at the arched backs, the primness of the nobles posturing in the centre of the room, supposedly a dancefloor but from what Hawke could tell, serving more like a stage. It was also the part of the room she the least desire to be, dancing never being her strongest suit, though her mother had despaired over the many paid lessons Riona had derailed.

After overhearing talk of the Grand Ball that evening, Hawke had decided she would be attending. She used the money she had acquired while staying in Antiva to buy an appropriate gown and her quick mouth convinced the doorman that of course she was supposed to be there. It had been a whim, as most of her travels thus far had been, but since she was here, she determined that she would use the opportunity to observe. She knew something of courts and to see what was going on at the edges of society she kept to the side of the great ball room. Crowds of people talking, giving away the information she needed to be able to blend in to her new location, were exactly what she wanted. As she drew closer, she spotted the presence of shadows she had already observed in the streets of town, a situation that left an unpleasant taste in her mouth.

Many of the magisters had their own shadow, standing by their side or more discreetly stood with backs against the walls, always watching and ready to come to attend the slightest need of their masters.

Slaves.

Hawke was distracted, trying to watch the way these slaves, almost all of them elves, managed to appear quite invisible most of the time. She was also helping herself to the buffet table while positioning herself so she could overhear the chatter of a woman about the shame of Magister something-or-other, some business with his son and an engagement beneath his station. Enraptured as she was, she didn’t notice a man appearing at her side, until his voice was in her ear.

“The Lady Amell, am I correct?” His voice exuded a smooth arrogance, and Hawke turned sharply to meet perceptive grey eyes, a long face. Salt and pepper hair was swept backwards and a well-kept beard covered his chin. When he leaned back, straightening, he was at least a head taller than Riona.

She pulled herself up in response, lifting her chin and meeting his eyes with cool aplomb. “You are,” She toned her voice, radiating confidence, “And who do I have the honour of being recognised by?”

His lips quirked upwards in amusement, or approval. “Magister Danarius Calvisi. The honour is all mine. Tell me, if you will, what brings someone from Kirkwall as far as Minrathous? It is no trifling journey, I would know.” She didn’t know what to make of this Danarius, the silky tones he used too slick to be entirely honest and his manner just perfectly posed, as much a façade as her own. Whoever he was, whether he belonged here or not, there was more to his true nature than what he put on display.

“My family have contacts in the city. I wanted to travel and the Imperium seemed like such an impressive place to see, before I headed back home. I thought, why waste a good opportunity?”

“Why, indeed.” He smiled ingratiatingly. “And my happy fortune that your curiosity led you here.”

“You’ve travelled to Kirkwall? What brought you there?” She couldn’t help the blush that rose to her cheeks at his smooth words and she attempted to side track onto a different topic.

“Business, I’m afraid, not pleasure. I had to confer with contacts in person to ensure acquisition of my goods.”

“You trade then?”

“I procure some of the finest and rarest commodities, from all around Thedas.”

“Fascinating.” She was amusing herself, enjoying the way the man seemed genuinely intrigued by her foreign customs. He asked of her home and she was able to detail her family estate honestly, although she, personally, had not been there for as long as she implied. She was happy to answer his questions and in return posited a few of her own, gathering information all the time, with the honest and legitimate excuse of being new in town.

He asked about the system of aristocracy in Fereldan and Kirkwall, given that Hawke and – by all lawful accounts – her family had no magic, yet were still considered influential. From the answers he gave her she pieced together the structure of the Tevinter courts, which were otherwise quite unknown outside the Imperium. She learnt how the Archon ruled at the top with Magisters at his side, while other Archon mages fought, schemed and tricked their way into the upper circles, always vying to rise up to higher stations.

“Perhaps, if you conclude your business with your family’s contacts,” She registered the way he paused over the words. “I would urge you to visit my estate. I would enjoy showing a fellow traveller some of the wonders I have gathered.”

“Your collection certainly sounds like quite the spectacle. Though I haven’t been in here in Minrathous long, and I have many plans to attend to. You know how family business can be. Perhaps if I find time in my busy schedule…”

“I hope you do, I would be quite distressed to miss you before you left.”

She smiled at him pleasantly, feeling a sense of smugness at the effect of her charms. With a slight bow, she replied “I’m sure I couldn’t take up the time of a man as distinguished as yourself.”

He gave the same, satisfied smile again. He was, as she knew of people in societies such as this all over, proudest of his status and she watched with amusement as he puffed up like a pleased canary that it had been noticed and complimented. “Quite the contrary, my lady. I first approached you, as I can assure you others will, to investigate this foreign beauty who has graced our courts. What I did not expect to find was such a charming and intelligent delight as you are. I have been quite selfish keeping you all to myself for this long.” He stepped forward slightly, taking her hand in his own “I will leave you to enjoy this party, though my selfish heart hopes that you will not let yourself be swept away by the flighty fancies of the younger, inexperienced men here.”

He leant over and lifted her hand to his lips, placing a chivalrous kiss over her fingers. She chuckled at the dismissive tone he used to describe her apparent other ‘suitors’ in the room and replied in kind.

“Lord—Magister Danarius, it has been a pleasure. And I assure you that if any young man catches my eye, I will make sure to let him know that he must have a collection of artefacts from twice the world over to have a chance of impressing me.” He laughed openly and released her hand, giving a short bow. As he turned to leave, her eye followed, finding his sense of arrogance tiring and simultaneously charming. And that was the moment she saw him.

Standing against the wall, unassuming and holding himself in such a way to appear as small as possible, was the most remarkable looking elf Riona had ever seen.

He had a shock of pure white hair and an intimidating looking outfit that was both elegant and gave the appearance of armour. Unlike most of the slaves here who were dressed in the most basic clothes, smart enough but entirely functional and plain, this slave looked like he was meant to be seen, a decorated symbol of what, Hawke didn’t have the grasp of the culture to imagine, but certainly something different.

What the outfit also demonstrated quite clearly were the white lines, like tattoos, that trailed and contrasted all across the elf’s darker skin. She had seen elven facial tattoos, few of those elves in the room had them but none were coloured like this, and none were quite as extensive as those unmistakeably displayed on the white haired elf.

In that moment the elf turned to follow his master. Danarius, Hawke suddenly realised. This was the personal slave of the very man she had been talking to and she had never seen someone like him before in her life. Riona found herself drawn to the mysterious shadow following the lordly magister.

She spent the rest of the evening mingling, making all the right allusions to have people think she was staying with friends, every bit the proper and respectable noble lady. Despite it being the very kind of life she had left behind for her travels, here it felt more like a game. When she knew she had nothing better than a cheap pub to go back to, the deceit of putting on her flowing dress and pulling on the noble disguise like an old outfit made it much more exciting.

Even as she spoke to other people, she felt like her mind still caught on the tall, proud Magister and his shadow. Her eyes observed as crowds seemed to part before the man and his elven slave.

Unlike the other slaves who were doing their best to be unnoticed, this elf was positioned to best effect when Danarius conversed with others, mingling, being seen, as she was doing.

She also noticed how there were many men and women she spoke to who skirted the subject of her conversation with Danarius, clearly intrigued by their connection. They each tried to discover, without fail, how she knew him and what that made her, immediately giving her some imagined position in the court as the gossip spread. She kept her answers short, vague, allowing creative fancy to fill the gaps around her. This was the kind of game she knew the steps to, even if it was not to her tastes at all.

As the evening drew to a close, Hawke came back to the side of the elegant Magister Danarius, eyes lingering once more on the figure keeping to his side.

“You have not forgotten me among this host of much younger men, then?” Danarius spoke immediately upon seeing her and she returned her amiable smile to him, almost caught guiltily drawing her gaze from the slave.

“I only had one offer of marriage and access to a pitiful collection of pots.” Hawke replied and was pleased with the crack of laughter he gave, understanding her allusion to their parting conversation. “It seems you are far too memorable, Messere.” Her own charms had not failed throughout the night. Perhaps her ploy would allow her to obtain more information that she suddenly desperately wanted.

“I hope you won’t find me too forward if I say that I am delighted to hear so.”

“Oh sometimes being a little bold is the only way to get what you want.” She replied smoothly and caught the gleam of triumph in his eye. She was good. “If the offer still stands, I would very much enjoy the chance to see you again, and your rather large collection.”

Danarius smiled, without showing his teeth and turned to her side. “We have certainly seen the best this party has to offer. Allow me to escort you out.” He held out his arm for her to take it. _Pushy,_ she thought, _or certainly used to getting his own way_.

Still, she took the proffered arm, confident in her ability to look after herself, and with a delicate word, allowed him to lead her from the building. She was aware immediately of the silent presence, shifting position to best flank his master and she saw first-hand the reaction of the crowds.

She knew crowds tittering over a juicy piece of gossip, and saw the unmistakeable signs as her armed through the esteemed magister’s drew attention. However what she was not prepared for was the way the crowds immediately parted before their path, stepping aside to make room without being commanded. Riona attracted a few glances herself but there were not many who seemed to meet the tall man she accompanied in the eye.

Stranger still, as she looked over her shoulder, was the way the crowd did not immediately close in behind them. If anything, she thought they were giving a wider berth, taking another step further out of reach of the shadow in their wake. _Just_ _who is this man?_ She asked herself, trying to focus on keeping the wonder she felt from showing on her face. As far as anyone watching knew, she had every right to be there and that’s what she needed to show them. _And who is his mystifying slave, that people seem more afraid of him than they are of the master?_

They left the room filled with a satisfactory buzzing, in Hawke’s opinion. She liked thinking that she caused a stir people would be discussing for possibly months to come. As they parted, Danarius invited her to visit him the following day, “so you can’t see the folly of your ways,” When she asked how she would know where to find him, he replied that he could have a slave meet her outside the Senate building at noon the next day.

“A slave? You mean-“ She couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder then, at the elf that she got the impression she was not supposed to directly draw attention to, based on the surprised reaction Danarius gave her.

“Fenris?” _Fenris_. A name. “Well, I suppose—” He considered her for a moment, not deigning to look himself at the elf he was about to order to do his bidding. “Yes, I imagine it will give quite the impression if you were seen walking through town with _my_ personal guard. An excellent idea, my lady Amell.”

Not the reaction she had expected, however she had just managed to arrange a one on one meeting tomorrow with the mysterious elf she had not yet been able to distract her mind from. She found she was unsurprised that Danarius thought people would recognise his bodyguard without himself being present. The elf certainly made an impression and with the way people had been watching him, there was a clear implication the elf was known for some reason. If only she knew what.

The agreement was made and the tall magister strode away into the night, after Hawke assured him that she was quite capable of making her way back to her accommodation. He had not, as she had been half expecting, made any advances to invite her to return with him that evening.

She watched the retreating figures. Despite the lanterns lighting the street, Danarius called forth a green light at the end of his staff, the steady light illuminating the white hair of the figure following behind, a small green outline hunched against the black silhouette of the magister’s robes.

>>><<>><<>><<>><<< 

Before she set off for the centre of town the next day, Hawke had to decide whether she really wanted to go through with the visit. In the cold light of day, not lit artfully by floating lanterns and her heady sense of achievement successfully pulling the wool over the eyes of a snobbish magister, the prospect of a visit to a strange man’s house seemed one of her more foolish ideas. She questioned the wisdom of it, even as her feet took her through the busy streets and towards the agreed upon meeting place. She arrived a short time after the noon meeting time, approaching the square from the side opposite the Assembly of the Magisterium.

The square held a strange mixture of magisters with their overladen, overworked and overlooked slaves following at heel, like well-trained Fereldan hounds. The image chilled her, the cold treatment of fellow people like dogs, worse than, when she thought of the love and affection the people she had seen in Fereldan had for their treasured Mabari. Yet here, a whole race of people were treated with open contempt and considered of no use unless they were doing a magister’s bidding.

Drawing around the edges of the busy scene, she finally caught sight of the steps leading to the imposing centre of commerce, the formidable Senate building. There, strikingly conspicuous against the dark marble of the steps, was the white haired elf, Fenris. Today he was wearing what looked like a much more practical armour, designed to be functional and not formal, as the clothes from the previous evening had appeared. There was leather and metal bracers and guards, which Hawke immediately thought had to be fairly sweaty and unpleasant in arid weather like this.

She was musing on this, and also on her reluctance to keep moving towards the Senate building. What could Magister Danarius do if she were to simply turn away, walk into the crowd and never see him again? Might he have her tracked down, not forgive the snub? She was immediately drawn to the potential power and experience she could gain were she to ingratiate herself with the magister. However she could also tell that the man was not stupid and that attempting to fool him merely for her own selfish amusement could be a dangerous mistake.

She had always enjoyed the challenge of a little danger.

This thought made her smile slightly to herself and she looked back at the steps again, to see the elf looking in her direction. Their eyes met across the last few market stalls separating them and Hawke froze, suddenly knowing she was trapped. The elf had seen her and she had to go forward.

But then the white haired elf turned away, glancing at the ground and the over the square in the other direction. He had seen her, and recognised her, of that she was certain and yet he was now pretending he had not. Hawke stood for an indeterminable moment, puzzling over in her mind that this elf was giving her the opportunity to turn around right then and leave, if she wanted. She knew that he would return to his master, passing on a story that the foreign woman had never shown up at their meeting place. He would presumably be the subject of whatever punishment the angry magister deemed enough to calm his rage.

And because the slave would do that for the woman that for all he knew was just the same as everyone else in this terrible country, she had no other choice. She knew she had to go to him.

“Fenris, wasn’t it?” Hawke said as she walked up behind the elf. Fenris turned quite calmly, she got the impression he had been perfectly aware of her approach despite the fact he had remained determinedly looking in the other direction. She waited for their eyes to meet but his gaze never quite raised to her face. Instead he stared down at the ground, speaking out loudly enough that she would hear his reply.

“My master wishes to reiterate his appreciation that you would spend your time with him at the Magister’s Ball last evening. If it would please you, I am here to show you to his estate.” His voice. It was like nothing she could have expected, a deep and pleasant rumble coming from the elf, even though every part of him radiated humility and servitude and something else. And she could not place what it was about him. If only he would look _up_.

“I would like that, Fenris.” She said his name with slightly more inflection, and for a moment, his head lifted but his eyes didn’t follow then almost immediately his head was dipped respectfully once again, ever the well-behaved servant. Hawke couldn’t stand it.

“We shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

She followed as the elf walked through the confusing maze of stone streets, a city that had built up progressively over hundreds of years of history and presumably it would take years of living here to possibly know all the passageways and routes. As she watched, several poorly dressed elves sped in and out of small alleys, over hung with bushes and canvasses so that Hawke wouldn’t even have spotted the entrance way.

Luckily, it was easy to keep her eye on this almost silent Fenris, even as he walked quickly and always appeared to be looking from side to side, watching people who came too close – not that many people did – and always surveying the crowds and bustle of the streets with a wary eye. His hunched posture both drew her attention and diverted the attention of others, who mostly looked at Hawke herself.

It hit her that Danarius had told her that Fenris was his guard, a bodyguard, meaning that looking for possible threats against his master was what he did. She realised his posture was less hunched and subservient, as she had first thought but rather up close it appeared more that he was coiled tight like a trap, ready to spring. He was always in preparation for action. Hawke had to wonder again just who this Danarius really was that his bodyguard had to be on high alert at all times.

“Fenris?” She caught up with him to walk by his side and then waited for him to respond, determined in her endeavour to talk, even polite conversation would be nice.

“Yes, Mistress?” He replied, and she balked at the term, looking at him uncomfortably.

 “Maker, don’t call me that! My name is Riona.”

“That would be inappropriate, Mistress.” He turned his head and spoke to some point around her feet. She stifled her noise of frustration.

“Hawke, then.”

“Hawke?” He lifted his eyes and in the confusion she saw there, ever so briefly before they dropped once more, she realised her mistake.

“Oh, damn. It’s Amell here isn’t it?” He gave her a sideways glance again, this time his eyes flicked up and down as if reassessing her and she grinned, shaking her head. “Don’t worry, I’m not lying to you, or Danarius.” The phrase ‘your master’ was not something she was ever going to bring herself to say. “I am a Lady Amell, Hawke is my father’s name, I just…I’m more of a Hawke.”

He looked at her once again, obviously confused, but when his eyes met her own, their startlingly green perceptiveness felt piercing. A strange spark fired through her, the connection that had drawn her to follow Danarius from the ball, to go to Fenris in the square, when her instincts were telling her to turn away, flashing warning signals. This spark had kept her going forwards.

Something here was dangerous, and Maker help her, she was going to forge on ahead like she always did. She knew that she would follow this mysterious green eyed, tattooed elf straight into the unknown threat if it meant she could find answers to the questions that surrounded him.


	2. Getting Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As she turned her eyes from the plates of food being laid out for apparently just the two of them, Danarius gestured with a rush of magic and suddenly a gaudy, gold ring appeared in his hand. He held it out with a flourish and Fenris felt his mind sluggishly refusing to comprehend what he saw.
> 
> “Catriona Amell, I would take your hand in marriage.”

Fenris led the strange Free Marcher back to his Master’s city property. He couldn’t begin to work her out at all.

She was from Kirkwall, the City of Chains but beyond that all he knew was that his master held several contracts there, bringing in new slaves for the Imperium. Being a constant shadow at his Master’s side, Fenris knew much of his business - Danarius’ slavers were everywhere around Thedas, rounding up the poor, the gullible and anyone who was unlikely to be missed.

She didn’t seem like someone who might have heard of Danarius through those dealings however. In fact, he still couldn’t see exactly what she did know about him. His master had first steered towards her the previous night, drawn to new prey that he could manipulate and probe for new information as soon as he had heard the announcer on the door mention her connection to the Free Marches. From the moment Danarius had snared her attention, Fenris had found her a puzzle. She had been quick in her comebacks, matching Danarius toe to toe as so few people did. Fenris at first had thought her shrewd, smart, except for the fact that she was flirting back with Danarius of all people and as far as Fenris had been able to tell, falling for all of his tricks. Not that Fenris could fathom or dare to ask what game it was his master was playing with her.

Her manner had been easy, laidback, as if she knew exactly what she was doing and Fenris had admired that. After all his time observing the citizens in the halls and streets of Minrathous, he could recognise anyone who was good at showing exactly what they wanted to be seen. Her gown was cheap but passable for the current fashions, though greatly outclasses at this ball, though she seemed proudly unconcerned, or dangerously ignorant of this fact and she continued to play her part well. Yet this all revealed her to be just like the other humans he knew, hiding their true face, playing their part in their hungry quest for power and so he had observed her more closely, assessing the risk she might pose to his master.

As they had parted ways at the end of the evening she had apparently leapt on the chance to visit Danarius’ home, to see his treasures and Fenris came to decide that she was yet another woman aspiring for a boost in her fortunes, perhaps only playing dumb to the fact that the man she happened to have latched on to was one of the more powerful players in Minrathous. She was questing after his power and he realised he would have to try to ascertain her intentions as they arranged for him to guide her through town the next day.

But then her eyes had fallen on him. He had been caught in the depth of her golden gaze and something in them left him questioning all of the conclusions he had drawn around her.

At midday, as he stood on the steps of the Magisterium, he caught sight of her heading towards him across the square and once again his estimations of her were unbalanced. He thought she had been about to turn away, perhaps coming to her senses over what she was walking into but that moment clearly passed. Instead she marched determinedly onwards, intent to claim her prize and he realised his strange hesitation over her had simply been a figment of his wandering mind at the end of a long evening on his feet. Here was a calculating woman and he must remain constantly aware and hyper vigilant of her dangerous intent.

It was rare that he was sent to complete any assignment that was not directly at his master’s side but in this case, he understood why Danarius had allowed it. Perhaps the Amell woman had requested his guidance, but it provided Danarius with the perfect opportunity to use his most trusted guard to scope out the possible threat, before leading her straight into the middle of his estate. Danarius may have perfected the cool, immoveable exterior but he did not take chances in regards to his own safety, a fact Fenris knew all too well.

So he continued to watch the woman, as she followed him through the streets, as she arrived at his master’s house and as she wandered through the halls, giving a keen impression that she was perfectly at ease there. Yet he also noticed how her gaze kept lingering on him when she could turn surreptitiously, always when Danarius himself wasn’t looking at her. Which he found was rare.

The Lady Amell returned the next day, and the next week, and when her welcome with the friends of her family she had in the city grew short, she found a place in the house of Magister Danarius, for it seemed that her sharp wit and clever tongue had quite charmed his master.

Meanwhile, Fenris more than noticed her lingering attention on himself.

It was not long after she had begun regularly visiting the magister that she once again requested time alone with Danarius’ personal bodyguard. It was unusual enough as it was, and Fenris should have realised the situation earlier when his master had accepted her proposal and Fenris had been issued to accompany her through the streets on what turned out to be a pointless excursion, an errand run into the marketplace that any servant could have accomplished.

With gentle wheedling by this Lady Amell, Danarius allowed her to walk alone with Fenris more often. Sometimes small visits into the city, sometimes just a task in another part of the mansion. Despite the strangeness of this, Fenris couldn’t help but appreciate how his duties lessened. Spending time apart from his master was greatly unsettling at first, something he had never experienced for long periods any time in his memory.

The day that they were walking through town and Fenris realised she had taken him on nothing more than a sightseeing tour of the city, he grew anxious. He had no certainty of when they were heading back, no definite plan to follow and he found himself breathing quickly. A tight pressing on his chest, simply from not knowing when they were going home. He berated himself, it was foolish, his master had allowed this separation and he was with Danarius’ ward, yet the sound of blood rushing through his ears made it difficult to push the threat of punishment away.

But Lady Amell took his hand as he stared at the ground. He jumped at the contact but she didn’t pull back. She smoothed her fingers over his skin, hushing him and led him to a quiet place, off the main street where she sat him down. She talked softly and calmly and his senses came back to him until he took his hand back from hers. She seemed reluctant to relinquish it but he was equally eager to brush this event aside, pretend it had not occurred. He suggested, a little impatiently, that they return to the mansion and she had looked at him sadly but nodded in agreement and followed him home.

She didn’t say it, but Fenris knew that she kept finding these excuses to draw him away from Danarius and reluctantly, Fenris began to grow used to it. He began to enjoy her company, her idle and amusing chatter, how she was so very different to his stern, volatile master.

She pried him away from the tight grasp Danarius bound him into, taking him from the rigid regime of service and gave him a strange respite. She was funny and kind, too kind, she would call him by name, tell him to call her Hawke and to look at her, meet her eyes as an equal, not to stare at the ground. She asked about his life. He had to admit, under her urging, that he didn’t remember anything before becoming a servant, and the look of disgust and sadness in her face caused him to recoil back. She had quickly reassured Fenris it was not a reaction to him, only the life he was forced to endure. Fenris was taken aback by the fact she was worried she had upset him. After that she kept her questions to what life was like in the service of Danarius.

He couldn’t tell her the truth, not all of it, and it was only when he asked himself why that he began to realise the problem he had fallen into.  It wasn’t out of any loyalty to his master that he kept the cruel beatings and tales of painful, punishing magic to himself. Instead he realised that it was out of fear. Fear that, because she seemed happy here, if he revealed the true nature of the man she was growing closer to, she might run away, leave him to return to the life he thought he had been used to.

He came to realise that when he caught her looking at him, it was because his eyes were already on her. He couldn’t help but wonder, was she feeling the same way he did? Only that was ridiculous.

The fear grew in him and he struggled to explain it to himself. He feared that he would lose this spark that had come into his life, the one glimmer of happiness he found as he spoke with her in the solitude of their wanderings, or in the dark of the night when she had convinced Danarius to dismiss him from his chamber. He had never known anything like it. In all his memory, he had never dared to imagine that there would be something he might eagerly look forward to as he did the days when she would take him away all to herself.

Even as he feared more and more that she would leave, he realised that he wanted her to get herself out of here. His strange attachment to her was only increased as he couldn’t deny her returned interest in him. Yet that only fed the fear, a dependent relationship like a master that relies on his slaves, while the slaves can’t survive without their master. Fenris found that his desire for her safety outgrew the leeching worry that she would leave, he cared more about her being free from Danarius than the selfish desire to keep her close.

Over the months this was happening, Fenris also noticed, to his horror, that Danarius was growing ever closer to her. His master let his guard down more, Hawke managed to get away with more and more, which she used to her advantage in convincing him to let his most trusted slave out of his sight, just for another hour, another evening, another day. Fenris spent more time with Hawke and all the while he watched Danarius falling for her.

And that terrified him.

He began trying to make her leave. He finally admitted the truth of his story that he had been keeping from her. One quiet evening when they were once more alone, hiding in a far wing away from the prying eyes of other servants, he told her of the first memory he could recall. The burning agony of the lyrium implanted under his skin, giving him deadly power unlike any other. He was the result of a dangerous experiment, making him into an even more dangerous prize. He told her how cruelly Danarius treated his slaves. That in the favoured position Fenris was held, he received both the best and the worst of his master’s treatment, something that so far Danarius had managed to keep from Hawke, though surely he couldn’t keep it private for much longer.

All of this he divulged in the hope Hawke would grow scared herself, fearful of the web she was becoming tangled up in and that she would decide to get herself out of harm’s way.

It seemed to work. Hawke began reminding Danarius that her stay was temporary, that she would need to be moving on soon. These murmurings appeared to affect Danarius unexpectedly. Fenris recognised the signs of his master trying to tighten his grip, to hold her to him. Fenris couldn’t admit that he didn’t want to let her go either, but it was better for everyone involved. Everyone that mattered.

Then she privately told Fenris news that chilled him to the bone at the same time his heart leapt. What he had told her of the true nature of the magister, she had taken as a sign she needed to release them all. In the night she was lit with a fire of determination, an intensity in her he didn’t know how to discourage. And when she reached for his face, cupping it in her hands, he didn’t flinch away.

He told her he wanted her to leave, he wanted to free her from Danarius.

She kissed him then, a soft tentative press of her lips that allowed him at any moment to pull away, but he pressed back, he pulled her against him and she promised, whispering into his skin, against his throat, that she would see the same for him. She would see him free of Danarius, free to lead his own life. And she wanted to be at his side.

She said that she had seen him at the ball, when she first met Danarius. She had been drawn to him, though she couldn’t say why. And she had decided then to follow him, not Danarius and she had only grown to hate Danarius the longer she stayed for the sake of Fenris.

_No,_ he tried to tell her _. This cause is too big for you. You don’t understand what you’re getting into._ He knew something in his tone, or his face must have got through because she had held him tenderly then, looking into his eyes, kissing him softly on his eyelids and his cheeks and pressing into his mouth.

_I have to try. I can’t stand by and leave you here. I can’t stand to see you in captivity. You are more of a wolf than Danarius understands and wolves need to run free._ But that hadn’t been a no. She wasn’t going to stop, and Fenris knew terror then. Terror of what Danarius could do to her when he found out what she had been doing all this time.

Even Fenris didn’t fully understand the trouble they were in.

>>><<>><<>><<>><<< 

It seemed another ordinary day. Danarius and Hawke had broken fast together, had spent the morning walking the gardens of the estate, all while Fenris walked along slightly behind then, unassuming, invisible to his master, and apparently a great distraction to Hawke, who kept reaching out and snagging fingers with his, brushing his hip if he came into reach, and sending small smiles whenever possible. Fenris struggled to believe he had grown used to her touch so quickly, a closeness and contact he had was not aware of ever having known. In only a few months a quick brush of her fingers left his skin tingling, she lingered on him like a warmth he couldn’t equate to anything else.

It had been close to 10 months that Hawke had been staying here with Danarius and he could tell she was getting impatient. While he had continued trying to make her turn away, to avoid chaining herself into his captivity she had obstinately stayed, quieted his arguments with the desperate press of her lips against his own, the whispered promise that she was getting him out to come away with her. Their hungry passion for each other was fuelled even further by the secrecy they were forced to keep.

But still she had made no progress, as Fenris had not allowed himself to believe she would. His master was a more powerful man than she began to comprehend and he knew from the moment he started wishing she would stay, that she must leave him behind. Danarius was growing too attached to her, the passion she brought to everything in her life he could see captivated his master just as firmly as it had taken him in.

When Danarius coveted something, he only knew to tether it to himself, to prevent it from flitting away. That is what would crush Hawke.

Their leisurely walk took them to the rear entrance to the house, a grand summer conservatory, occupied by a couple of slaves tending to the plants while a couple more were laying out an extravagant lunch on the dining table in the centre of the room.

As she turned her eyes from the plates of food being laid out for apparently just the two of them, Danarius gestured with a rush of magic and suddenly a gaudy, gold ring appeared in his hand. He held it out with a flourish and Fenris felt his mind sluggishly refusing to comprehend what he saw.

“Catriona Amell, I would take your hand in marriage.” The tone of Danarius’ voice didn’t suggest that the outlandish statement had been intended as a question, a foregone conclusion drawn already in his mind. Time seemed to slow as the monumental meaning of the words settled on Fenris. He closed his eyes and bit his tongue, hard, his fears for Hawke’s freedom being painfully realised before him. Even before the words had left Danarius’ mouth, the magister was reaching for her hand, so sure he was about to slip the ring onto her finger, another mark for another of his precious possessions.

Fenris’ eyes snapped open again when he heard the sharp inhale, a rustle of movement and he saw Hawke drawing her hand out of his master’s reach. “You must be joking.” She spoke without thinking, and her eyes widened in surprise at her own tactlessness. Fenris tasted blood as he cringed in fear, panic threatening to take him when his mind started running through the possible retributions his master would bring down on her. Even so, he held his tongue, shamed at himself for the cowardice, the weakness trained into him that stopped him from standing up to the man.

“Excuse me?” Danarius replied, shock temporarily containing the fury that was sure to come. Hawke gaped back at him, Fenris could see her marvellous mind whirling to somehow backpedal and defuse the situation. There was still a chance that she might be able to brush her response off as a joke, another part of this long game they had been playing that she just about to leave Tevinter.

Surely that was the reason Danarius had made this offer, was it not. To make her stay, to keep her contained in his fancy cage.

What didn’t help the situation was Fenris being unable to control his roiling emotions, the waves of terror and sheer helplessness rooting him to the spot and at the same time rippling down his body in a visible display of cursed blue light.

Danarius began to turn around, Fenris realising with a desperate exhale that drawing the attention of the mage would at least delay his wrath falling on Hawke, giving her more time, a chance to come up with another pretty lie that would placate Danarius for longer. Perhaps he could draw out most of his master’s anger and he would be able to talk to her more calmly. It was the best chance Fenris could give her.

But in that moment Hawke began talking again.

“That’s not what I want, Danarius. I didn’t come here to marry, and I certainly didn’t come here to marry someone like _you_.”

“And what do you mean by that?” His voice curled dangerously across the quiet that had fallen over the scene. The wind in the garden and the bustle of slaves behind the doors seemed muted as Fenris couldn’t take his eyes from Hawke.

“What I mean is that I am not some prize for you to display on your shelf, some foreign girl to take out and show off at parties. I want to be free to move on and live my life, though freedom is a luxury you don’t seem to understand.”

“Tell me, do you think speaking in riddles will help me understand you.”

Fenris watched as she bit her lip, hoping that she would back down, before things went too far. He recognised the tight frown pulling down her brow however, and he knew she had already determined her path. He couldn’t change her mind now.

“Then I’ll speak plainly. You can’t keep me here when I don’t want to stay and I absolutely _do not_ want to stay with you.” Fenris saw as Danarius’s shoulders stiffened, the only indication he could get from the man’s back of how he was responding to this rare event of someone standing up to him. And in response, Hawke’s face tightened sharply.

Fenris’ mind raced through all the things that were about to go wrong. He wanted to stop Hawke, to just make her _run_ and save herself. He didn’t want to see Danarius turn his rapidly rising fury on her. He wished that she had never come to this place, that he could have never had the small glimpse of happiness that this past few months had brought him. He never deserved her and he was about to lose her. He didn’t know whether he could return to the mindless servitude he had endured for as long as he could remember.

Danarius began to sneer, the tone of his voice causing Fenris to flinch in preparation for his wrath. “You forget your place, Lady Amell.”

“I don’t _want_ a _place_! I don’t want to be another of your possessions. Another trophy for the case. I couldn’t marry a man who doesn’t have a scrap of warmth in his heart. You take pleasure in belittling others, in causing pain and only cares how much people fear him! You disgust me.”

“Silence, girl! I offer you the privilege of being at my side, even despite your complete lack of magic, and you turn around and insult me like this. You will not walk away from this.”

Fenris saw the rage in Danarius, a sudden stiffness of his shoulders as Hawke had spoken. He realised, as he should have known all along, that his master truly did feel some affection for Riona Amell. Or as much as Fenris could imagine Danarius feeling, like the attraction of a magpie to a glittering jewel, rather than the pure love and adoration that Fenris knew Hawke deserved. The real Hawke, not the persona she had created for these marbled Tevinter halls.

Fenris could control himself no longer as he saw Hawke draw breath for another verbal assault, desperate as he was to try and get her out of harm’s way. He clung desperately to the hope that maybe she would still be able to go back to the life she had before she came here.

“Hawke, stop!” He called out and Danarius took a step to the side, twisting finally so that he could see both Hawke and Fenris at once. This was when Fenris saw the twisted snarl on his master’s face, the ugly wave of anger held barely at bay and Fenris knew that they had passed the point of anyone getting out of here safely. He would have frozen in deeply ingrained terror, except that small realisation gave him an unexpected sense of relief.

There was a freedom in surrendering to an inevitable fate.

Danarius’ face reddened further if that was possible, his words coming from tightly clenched teeth, “Hawk! Don’t think I haven’t heard him calling you that. I should have seen you were lying all along. Tell me, is the Lady Amell aware you’ve stolen her name, flaunting it to suit your own purpose? A pity, your name was the only worthy thing about you”

Fenris was incensed. “She is worth more than you can imagine! More than you could possibly achieve.”

Danarius’ eyes turned towards him, and Fenris battled with the urge to turn and flee, or cower. Instead, he tried to keep his head facing up, as Hawke had shown him, to meet his master’s cold, grey eyes. This fight wasn’t about him. This time, he was fighting for Hawke, and that was a cause he knew he could believe in.

Danarius looked at Fenris incredulously. The raw disdain in his expression made it appear as though he were deciding the correct balance of anger and scorn to answer with, his face grimacing with a sneer.

“My little wolf grows teeth! You have become rather protective over this pretty little thing.” He purred, clearly amused.  “How charming.”

“Fenris is ten times the man you could be.” Hawke spoke up immediately, as Fenris curled back his lip, snarling. “I’d rather take a wolf than a snake!”

Danarius’ fingers flexed noticeably at his side, Fenris recognised the itch of magic crackling across his skin and it struck a familiar terror through him, strangling the words in his throat before he could argue again. Some feelings just heralded _danger._ Some lessons were too ingrained to oppose.

“You have been tricked. Some thoughtless joke? You couldn’t possibly imagine a slave was really a person.” Danarius looked genuinely confounded, this was a thought beyond any kind of comprehension and it was as if he as waiting for Hawke to take it all back and accept his proposal.

“I feel the same way he does. I love him. Of course someone who couldn’t understand real love would mistake it for a trick.”

Fenris met her eyes at these words, sure he must have misheard her. She was staring fiercely back at him, her bright eyes shining fervently, waiting for him to look up at her, as she always did. Waiting for him to meet her gaze, to see himself as her equal. The words were beyond understanding and at the same time, they meant everything to him.

“Hawke…” He had to tell her, he felt the same way, the words were so simple and to just tell her the same-

“You have played your game, hawk but you don’t understand the rules. This isn’t your game anymore.”

Fenris looked back to his master and his heart stopped as he saw the movement of the staff, never far from the magister’s hand. He brandished it in a wide arc and the slave inside the door let out a soft gasp, fingers clutching at his throat.

Hawke let out an anguished yell, dismay hitting her as she immediately saw she could do nothing to save the hapless victim. Fenris didn’t move. He knew all too well that it was already too late.

Danarius let out a vicious noise as he swept his staff across in a sharp movement, the crack of magic letting loose and in an unstoppable moment, blood flew from the poor elf’s throat and his lifeless body fell with a muted thud to the floor. The blood flowed freely, rolling out towards Danarius, swishing around him in a gruesome whirlpool of vital life power, concentrating finally above him before draining down into his staff.

“Is this the freedom you wanted? Is that slave not free?” Hawke stood, one hand still slightly outreached to the limp body of the slave on the ground, the other clenched at her side. Her eyes turned from the body slowly, almost palpable fury directed back to the magister.

Fenris felt it, Hawke was radiating anger, a force that even without magic, seemed to rival the power of the magister facing opposite her. The air between them was electric, quaking where their wills met.

“You disgust me. Your answer to someone finally standing up to you is to murder an innocent, unrelated…”

“They are all the same. Like a petty child who can’t see the sacrifices that must be made for the betterment of her superiors.  They are here for one purpose alone. To serve me. They would not have a purpose if not for what I give them.”

“You think you’re helping them? You’re more deluded than I thought. This is between you and me, Danarius. Leave them out of this.”

“You brought them into this, girl. My slaves give their lives to my service. And I will use that,” He reached out again, another elven slave within the conservatory fell to her knees, fingers sputtering uselessly over the gaping wound in her throat, “to teach you some respect.”

“Stop!” Hawke cried out, Fenris remained with his hands at his sides, terrified, with his eyes uselessly fixed on the serving girl. The tray she had been carrying rolled across the floor, contents flowing and mingling across the marble while her blood, once freed of its host, followed the previous lifestream to Danarius’ staff. The tip glowed as it absorbed the thick, red liquid.

“You lie to my face, aim to humiliate me in my own courts, try to turn my little wolf against me and expect to get away with it. You will learn what it means to try to outwit a magister.”

“No!” Fenris couldn’t hold his tongue, stepping forward again, the marks already flickering in anguish across his skin flaring in intensity and a hand reached out towards the man now brandishing his staff.

Then he saw the slightest movement of Danarius’ eyes, and his body stiffened, no longer following his command to move forward, despite his most strenuous attempts. He was instead suddenly imprisoned, helpless and hopeless, inside his own glowing skin. Caught in the act of turning on his master.

He felt his knees buckle, he dropped to the ground and was looking up at Hawke. He was going to die and he selfishly wanted to look on her face in his final moments, wishing that instead of white faced terror, he saw the bright, easy smile that he had cherished over the last few months.

She had not changed position, he wondered whether that was also Danarius’s doing, until she stepped forwards once more, this time turning towards him.

“Please, no! Let him go!” Her voice was rough, pleading, desperate.

“To think I believed I had feelings for a Free Marcher brat. Someone so deplorable you would steal another’s name and fall for a pathetic slave such as this.” He snarled.

“Danarius, don’t hurt him! Do what you want with me.” Hawke stepped tentatively forwards again, hands stretching slightly forward, as if offering herself.

“It is far too late for that. Even with whatever you really are, street rat or noble as you claim, you two are from very different worlds.” Danarius was manic, Fenris had never seen him this angry and in this state even he couldn’t fathom what the magister’s next move would be. “As different as night and day. You believe you could belong with him. Selfish, ridiculous girl, you came to me. You cannot turn me aside so easily.”

“Danarius…” Her eyes were fixed on Fenris who was still frozen, though he could feel himself breathing heavily, enough movement left in his body to tremble under the force of his master’s magic.

“You cannot dare treat me like this. I thought you better than that, Amell. Hawk. Whatever you really are!”

She ran to stand in front of Fenris, falling to the ground to throw her arms around him, as if to protect him from the power Danarius had been charging into his staff.

Danarius stared at them for a moment, anger clear in his eyes but something else lurking in his expression.

“You truly believe you care for him, don’t you?”

 “I do.” She said simply, Fenris could hear the tremble in her voice, the weakness she knew was a mistake to reveal. But in this position he could do nothing to warn her to leave him, save herself.

“You would do anything for him?” The man sneered, his voice giving way to a manic peal of laughter.

“Yes. Please Danarius.” She was crying, he heard it now.

“Then you are no better than he is. You wish to align yourself with him, then you deserve the same treatment. I’ll make sure you can’t trick anyone else again, playing games with their heads. Everyone will see you for what you really are. A liar, a wicked temptress. You, hawk, can never have what you want.”

He reached out then, his staff brandished before them. Fenris felt Hawke cringe above him, trying to throw her weight around him further, to protect him of all things.

Then the familiar trickle of magic ran through him, spreading all through his body like an unstoppable sickness, drowning his senses. He prepared for the onset of pain, the wrath that Danarius had finally brought down on them.

But it was Hawke who cried out.

Her arms stiffened around him, clenched as if frozen in place. She let out a noise that sounded animalistic, a shriek of pain, terror, anguish, he couldn’t place. Fenris was released from whatever curse had been holding him in place, at the same time as Hawke flew backwards, landing heavily, dragged partway back towards Danarius.

Fenris wrenched forward after her, taking her hand, still outstretched in his direction. She gripped him in return, a tight claw grasping blindly around his hand and he felt his bones protesting under the unyielding grip, almost enough to draw a gasp from him, had he not learnt to withhold signs of his suffering.

“Stop!” Fenris cried, the sight of her features twisting in agony held his eyes as firmly as any spell Danarius could have cast on him. “Don’t toy with her! Just kill us like you plan to!” He raised his voice to be heard over the sound of Hawke wailing on the ground. He wanted anything to end this suffering for her. Even the release of death. Perhaps Danarius wanted him to beg for it, after his display of ‘releasing’ the slaves.

Even as he tried to form the words, ready to prostrate himself at his master’s feet, he felt something change. Around his fingers Hawke’s hands, her very bones, began to shift. Her vice-like grip on his loosened and he pulled back, keeping a light touch on her skin and at the same time repulsed by whatever torture his master was inflicting upon her.

“Please! Stop this!” He recognised the reversal in their roles, pleading Danarius to stop hurting Hawke, despite the fact I t had made no difference on the magister’s verdict before, Fenris was still willing to try. Anything. “Danarius! Master?”

Only at the last word did Danarius even react as if he noticed Fenris was there. The manic smile he had sported as he savoured whatever he was doing to Hawke shifted and he raised his eyebrow to look at Fenris for the first time.

“You have shown you have no loyalty to me, slave. She has ruined my little wolf and for that you will both regret the day you tried to defy me.” He twisted his staff and Hawke gave out one last, desperate shriek, curling into a tight ball as if trying to hold her body together.

In a movement that was too quick for the eye to follow, it seemed as if her body continued collapsing inwards on itself, her form crumpling before him, into nothingness. Grey smoke licked and curled around her and although he couldn’t draw his eyes away she was obscured from his sight.

Before he could shout out, or even process what had happened, something burst from the centre of the fog, shooting straight into the air. Fenris followed the movement upwards and his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the sky.

All he saw, circling the garden at a low height and screeching out its long, strident call, was a hawk.

Fenris frowned against the sun, blinking. He glanced down at what was now simply a pile of clothes at his master’s feet, then finally his stunned expression rose up to his master’s face.

“What…?” He couldn’t comprehend what he had just seen, the bird still circling in his gaze behind Danarius’ head.

“I told you, your precious Hawke would not be playing her tricks any longer. She was so bold to spurn my affections, everything I could have given her. Instead she thought to choose _you_ , a slave, a stain on my estate, a nothing. The sheer insolence. But now, no one will have her, least of all you. You will never look upon your beloved’s face again.” He had that same eerie grin on his face, like a madman. Fenris should have feared what might happen next but there was one thought that circled through his head with the lazy loops of the bird above them.

“She is alive.” Fenris could not focus on much beyond that simple fact. It had seemed that this was the end but now, as long as a heart beat in her chest, there was surely hope.

“Alive, yes. As are you. I’m going to make you wish I had given you the sweet release of death.” Fenris frowned up at the magister, speechless, their eyes fixed on each other. He was wary, waiting, but Danarius did not make any move towards him. There was not death in his eyes, or anger. Instead, something far more terrifying—hunger, some amused glint that was a joke Fenris didn’t want to know the punchline to.

“Now run, take your Hawk, or what you can catch of her.” Danarius grinned darkly. “Happy hunting, wolf.”

Fenris did not question and he did not look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying so far, clearly things get a bit more LadyHawke-esque from here on out.  
> Feedback would be lovely, this chapter has given me endless trouble.


	3. First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Who are you?” she demanded, and her throat protested, feeling rough as a gravel courtyard.
> 
> “Varric Tethras, at your service.” He stepped forward again and once she accounted for the fact she was still crouched on the ground, she realised that he was a dwarf, a finely tailored dwarf, with his dirty blond hair neatly pulled back behind his head. He didn’t seem at all perturbed by her brusqueness, and was either unaffected by or politely ignoring her lack of clothes.

Hawke awoke, sharp grit digging into her knees and palms. It was dim, just gone dark, her head was spinning and she was—naked.

She hastily looked around herself, she was outdoors and there had to be something she could use to cover herself. A piece of material hung next to her head and she reached up for it, dragging it from the top of crate it was protruding from and finding it was a shawl, large enough to fashion some kind of modesty for herself.

She pulled her legs up and tried to stand, worry darting through her thoughts when her legs gave way beneath her, unsteadily quaking and refusing to take her weight.

She wrapped the rich cloth around herself and instead dragged herself to the side, leaning against the wall of the alley she found herself in. First, she decided she had to sort through her thoughts, pull together a memory of how she had come to be here.

And that was when she saw a dark figure silhouetted by the light shining in from the street beyond, a figure that appeared to be facing her way.

A memory of the argument came flashing back and she recoiled sharply, grazing her shoulder against the wall and biting her lip at the raw pain. The figure took a step forward with his arm outstretched, ready for attack.

“Hey, woah there,” A voice that was definitely not Danarius called out. “I’m not going to hurt you.” The voice was low, gravelly but something about it sounded strangely familiar. The figure stepped forward once again, clearly approaching with caution.

“Who are you?” she demanded, and her throat protested, feeling rough as a gravel courtyard.

“Varric Tethras, at your service.” He stepped forward again and once she accounted for the fact she was still crouched on the ground, she realised that he was a dwarf, a finely tailored dwarf, with his dirty blond hair neatly pulled back behind his head.  He didn’t seem at all perturbed by her brusqueness, and was either unaffected by or politely ignoring her lack of clothes. “That was quite a tumble I saw, I wanted to check you were still with us.”

Her mind floundered still, grasping fragmented memories that seemed to stop with Danarius, and pain and hands grasping hers and shouting her name. “Where’s Fenris?”

“Fenris… ah, you mean the wolf?”

“Don’t call him that.” She replied, without thinking, angry and surprised to hear the demeaning moniker on someone else’s lips.

“Okay, whatever you say but it just seemed to fit.” Before she could come up with another retort, or begin to worry that perhaps news of their escape - however that had happened - had spread into the city already, the dwarf stepped to the side. He gestured with one hand to a shape moving behind him and Riona frowned down at the silhouetted form.

It prowled closer, slunk low to the ground and brushing near enough to Varric that he shifted uneasily away. It didn’t turn to look at him though, eyes fixed, she assumed although he was lit only from behind, on her.

It was a white wolf.

She frowned then, scared to look away from it in case it moved to attack but chancing a glance up at the dwarf.

“What is this?” She hissed between clenched teeth. “What is a wolf doing in the city?”

“I assumedthought you’d be the one telling me that, honestly. I followed you in here because, well, I don’t like to miss things, and then this guy wouldn’t let me leave. Just kept…herding me.” He said, rubbing his neck tensely in a way that belied his jovial tone.

Riona looked up at him in bewilderment. “What would I know—?” she started, still looking at the wolf, edging closer towards her from the dwarf’s side.

“Look, I think we both have a lot of questions, and my place is just around the corner. It might be a little more comfortable than this alley, unless broken glass and stale piss is your style.” He suggested and stepped forward, slightly away from the wolf. Hawke gave him another wary look, but he wore an encouraging smile on his face and he was already shrugging his jacket from his shoulders, holding it out to her.

Walking her hands up the wall, Riona decided that her legs felt slightly steadier under her. She pulled his jacket around herself, huffing slightly as the garment made for his barrel shaped chest dwarfed her slight frame. With a pointed look at the dwarf, she turned her back and rearranged the shawl to cover her legs. Satisfied with the result, she turned back and looked down at her mysterious helper, trying to hide the fact her sudden spin had upset her balance.

Without a word, the dwarf reached out to take her hand and put it on his shoulder. She wanted to protest but couldn’t deny that the help was appreciated and so she leaned a little more of her weight onto him. Trying to make their position look natural, she nodded down at him to move on and they headed towards the lamplit street.

“So, do you have a name I can call you?” The dwarf started conversationally.

Her suspicious mind raced through her possible options. Most people knew her as Amell here, she wasn’t even sure Danarius had realised it was her name, probably just assumed it was a cover. “Hawke.” What she didn’t expect was for the dwarf to respond with a bark of laughter.

“Right, I get it.”

“Get what?” She peered down at him in confusion, distracted with the thought that her feet seemed to be regaining their normal movement, like they were just remembering what exactly they were meant to do.

“Hawke, with the whole…” He trailed off as he looked up at her still mystified expression and he waved his hand. “Let’s just get inside. Then we’ll discuss things that need to be discussed.”

They walked only as far as the next street when Varric turned the corner and rustled in his jacket for keys. As they navigated the turn, Riona happened to look back and in the shadows, pressed against the wall of the houses they had passed, the wolf followed them.

It’s eyes were still definitely fixed on her.

Outside a small, unassuming door, Varric stopped and let them into the house. As he held the door and Hawke stepped forward, suddenly the wolf slunk past her leg and darted in before them, causing both Riona and the dwarf to let out a hasty noise of alarm. However, as soon as it was inside, the beast turned and sat down, facing them with it’s head slightly cocked, expectantly.

“I hope your friend is trained.” The dwarf drawled as he pulled the door closed behind them, letting Riona take in the cluttered one-room accommodation she found herself in with these two strange companions. Varric immediately headed for a wardrobe at the side of the bed, while Riona looked around.

Instead of the many items and parchments cluttering the surfaces near her, Hawke found herself looking once more at the wolf sat staring back at her. It was as big, perhaps even bigger than her own mabari at home, with a rich fur coat a ghostly white. Even as she looked it over, she felt it’s own inquisitiveness, watching her, observing her every move. She took a step forward, and it gave no reaction.

She tried again and crouched slowly, not making any sudden moves, until she was on an eye level with it.

And it stared back. Intelligent eyes that seemed to be waiting for her to do something, eyes of the most intense green.

_Oh._

But it couldn’t be…

“So, these might be a little short, but it’s warm here in the city. And I’ve got a belt you can cinch in to keep them up.” The dwarf’s voice cut across her thoughts and the deep spell between her and the wolf’s gaze was broken. “Sorry, it’s not the latest Tevinter fashion. The robemakers don’t seem to cater to dwarves.” He chuckled and returned to her as she stood to face him, thrusting a pair of trousers into her hands, along with a shirt and a couple of different leather belts.

She quickly and gratefully headed towards the screen she spotted in the corner of the room, perhaps more lacy and decorative than completely functional, but she noticed the dwarf tactfully turn the other way.

As she unfastened Varric’s large jacket and let the makeshift skirt fall to the floor, she began talking out into the room.

“So, the wolf _isn’t_ yours?”

“Hmph, I’m not much for pets that could tear me open because they’re having a rough day. No, it appeared as soon as I went into that alleyway.”

“It did?”

“Wouldn’t let me leave either. At that point I’d already seen you, becoming you.” Varric let out a slight chuckle at that moment as she pondered his strange phrase. “It seemed almost as surprised at that, if I can tell what a surprised wolf looks like.”

“Well, I’m grateful for the help you’ve given me. I would pay you for the clothes except my money was…”

She came out from behind the screen then, having arranged the shirt and used the extra belt over the top to make something halfway presentable, then she stopped when she caught sight of the wolf. It was now sat in just a few feet from the screen, as if waiting just for her, his green eyes respectfully turned down. A habit she still hadn’t been able to completely break.

No. She couldn’t think that, it was completely beyond reason. Still, the hasty farewell Riona had been about to make died on her lips and she focused instead on the dwarf and the feeling that she was missing something incredibly important going on. She moved to take the seat opposite the dwarf, soft footsteps padded behind her.

“The wolf led you into in that alley?”

“Not exactly, he was just there after I’d spotted you.”

“And you don’t know how I got there? You didn’t see me go in?”

At this, Varric blinked, a strange smile touching his expression. “Well, I could take a guess.”

“What? How?”

“Well, Hawke, I think you flew.”

“What?” She stared at him blankly, worried that perhaps she’d willingly walked straight into the home of a lunatic.

“The thing is, you haven’t actually asked me _why_ I stayed to help you.” He leaned forward with his arms on the table between them, the look on his face reminding Hawke of the expression her mother’s friends had when they were about to share a particularly juicy piece of gossip. “You see, it wasn’t a woman I saw in that alley. I saw a hawk. Just a garden variety, dirty brown hawk. That was, until it starting shedding feathers like a randy dowager and grew into a naked human.”

Riona stared at him for a long moment, looking him up and down, trying to decide how best to respond.

“Okay, maybe you think you saw that, but you realise that’s crazy talk, right?” Tactfully, as usual.

“You think I could make up something like that? I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

“So you expect me to believe I was a bird? And I don’t remember?”

“I’m going to guess from your reaction that you weren’t expecting your Fenris to be a wolf, either.” Varric nodded at her side and she looked to see that the white beast was now lying next to her chair. When their attentions turned to it, the creature looked up, straight at Hawke with those eerily familiar green eyes. “Because let me tell you, he didn’t calm down like this until the moment you woke up.”

More than anything else the dwarf had said, looking at the wolf by her side made her consider what she was being told. It couldn’t be possible and yet, she couldn’t remember how she got to the alley. She didn’t know where Fenris was, or where this wolf had come from. Danarius had been _so_ angry… she remembered pain.

“Fenris?” Her voice was uncertain but she felt something, some kind of creeping certainty as she studied him.

The wolf whined. His eyes remained steadily on hers. “Fenris!” His tail thumped encouragingly twice against the floor of the shack and he sat up. In a moment she was on the ground next to him, forgetting completely that this was a wolf, a creature that should be feared. Her hands were in his thick, pale fur, in the ruff around his neck, held his muzzle to face her and she choked out a weak sob, relief and loss tearing her thoughts apart.

“What did he do to you, Fenris? I’m sorry.” Her arms looped around his neck, she buried her face into his fur, her words becoming muffled. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault.”

She held him for a time like that, the wolf nuzzled against her and she felt his tongue on her back, where he could reach. Reluctantly she let her arms fall from the wolf’s neck but kept one hand on him as she turned back to the dwarf, now sat fiddling at the table and unashamedly watching them.

“You think he made me a hawk, as well?”

“I don’t think. I saw. And it does rather work, wouldn’t you say? Certainly adds a facetious flair.”

“But then why am I me again? Because knowing Danarius, it didn’t just wear off.” She thought out loud, turning back to look at the wolf but a sputtering noise drew her attention back to Varric.

“Danarius?” He exclaimed. “The Danarius? Huge mansion, waving his big staff all over town Danarius? Oh Hawke, what have you got yourself involved in?”

“I’m sorry. I can go, you won’t see me again. I mean, that’s the plan anyway.”

“Hey, woah! You can’t go out there magic blazing and sword half-drawn. I only asked a question, I wasn’t throwing you out.” Varric held out his hands pacifyingly.

“You—I mean, we’re not safe to be around.” She took in his nonplussed expression and sighed. “It’s a long story.”

“The best ones are.”

Hawke smiled hesitantly up at the dwarf then, who only seemed to be more invested as the danger he was in increased.

She explained, as best as she was able, the circumstances leading up to the argument with Danarius but then her memories grew hazier.

“Fenris tried to defend me, he actually stood up to Danarius and that alone must have terrified him. The man is a tyrant, and cruel and wicked and bloodthirsty but Fenris has seen the worst of it. I don’t know how I could stand to be around him for as long as I was.” She paused and her hand lightly stroked where it had remained in Fenris’ fur for the duration of the telling. She looked back at him, letting the intense surge of feelings she had for him overwhelm her, and her voice softened. “No, I know why.”

“He’s really something special to you, isn’t he?”

“I love him, with everything I have.” She spoke without pausing to think. As she had in front of Danarius. “Danarius couldn’t recognise something like that if it bit him in the ass. No, he took it as some personal affront and he was crazed. Then Fenris called me Hawke, he thought my identity was another thing I was hiding from him.”

“He wouldn’t be completely wrong.”

“Well…no. But it wasn’t what he thought. I was never there to hurt him and maybe I figured he deserved whatever he got when I realised just what kind of man he really was, but that was never—now we’re…”

“And now you’re here.” The dwarf summarised with a dramatic flourish. Riona gave him a steady look.

“Why are you helping me? Now you know I’ve got the scariest guy in town out for my…something. Surely you want me out of your life so you can pretend you never got involved?”

“Hawke, you don’t know me, so let me summarise. I’m a writer, people like to hear me tell interesting stories. Now, after a few good tales, the only way you can come up with more interesting stories is when you’ve done interesting things. This isn’t really the kind of opportunity I can pass up. Call it…living vicariously.” He grinned then, and Hawke couldn’t help but respond in kind, it was such an honest expression.

“So you’re going to write a story about me, is that it?”

“Well, there might be something inspired by you. Nothing that might be recognisable.” Varric waved a hand dismissively. She narrowed her eyes, unconvinced and he didn’t acknowledge her wordless reproof.

“It might be a little difficult to make a story about someone turning into a hawk anonymous. There can’t be that many around.”

“I’ll call her Sparrow.”

“That’s nowhere near majestic enough.”

“You wouldn’t call it majestic if you’d seen the way you crash landed in that alley.” Riona couldn’t help but laugh. Varric had laid out a couple of bandages and scissors on the table and Hawke finally released her hold on Fenris so that she could clean the length of grazed skin on her forearm that she had only noticed was paining her as she got changed.

As she cut a strip of fabric and started wrapping it around her arm, she looked up at Varric again, a serious expression back on her face. “I need to get out of town.”

“I know.”

“Danarius could have eyes anywhere. If he hasn’t killed all his slaves in some kind of petty vengeance.” She grimaced as the chilling thought just occurred to her. All the lives she didn’t save. How selfish that just she and Fenris had got out, as far as she knew.

“I can’t speak to that, but at the moment we have no idea what his plan is. We don’t know what he was aiming for when he did this to you two.”

“No, but there’s no way he’s just let us go.”

“It seems unlikely based on what I’ve heard about him. But you’re in luck. I know what just might be your best chance of a way out.”

“I can’t ask you to endanger yourself by helping us more than you already have.” She tried to interrupt but he waved her off.

“I’m doing this for entirely selfish reasons, remember? Need to get enough inspiration to make my next paycheck.” He grinned again and leaned forward on the table. “Now, early tomorrow, before the city wakes up, we need to get down to the docks.”

“The docks? If you’re thinking about smuggling us onto a ship, no chance. These Tevinter captains are vigilant about stowaways and will not haggle a fair price.”

“Spoken from true experience, but I’m not talking just any old ship, or even anything illegal.” Varric countered good-humouredly. “I wasn’t going to stay in this blighted city for longer than I had to so I made sure to have a way out. And luckily there are plenty of people who owe me big so—you don’t need to know the details but what I’m saying is I can get you out.”

“You’re from Kirkwall!” She exclaimed abruptly, the odd familiarity she had felt in the back of her mind suddenly clicking into place when she realised he wasn’t from Tevinter.

“Yes I am, you know it?” Varric beamed widely. If she didn’t know the city, she might even think he was proud.

“I live there.” She laughed and Varric immediately gave her a curious stare.

“I don’t know any Hawke’s.”

“”Well, no. It’s my father’s name.” She suddenly remembered her earlier hesitation. Although she already felt more comfortable with this Varric, she decided to hold back on giving him any more information than he strictly needed. She had probably already said too much. “But if you really can get me out of here, I would be in your debt.” She smirked, “I guess I’d be someone else to add to your list.”

The sense of relief she felt that maybe, just maybe they might get out of here was lightening her mood until she felt more like herself than she had in hours. Not surprising, since apparently some of those hours she’d spent as a bird. “Get me out of here and you can have anything.”

“Any time for a fellow Kirkwaller. I’ll find some way for you to repay me, you can count on it. For now though, if we want to get out of town without being seen, we need to be up early. And I need my beauty sleep. Maybe one day that’ll start making me pretty.”

As Hawke chuckled, the dwarf then rose and gathered away the bandages and salve from the table before heading to a cupboard, from which he drew a large, folded blanket.

“You can take the bed, sounds like you’ve earned it more than me.” Only as he spoke did Hawke notice the lack of a second bed in what was a very small dwelling.

“You don’t have to, Varric. I…”

“I insist. Your delicate sensibilities won’t cope with a hard floor after the luxury I assume you’ve been staying in, by the looks of the rich estates at the other end of town.”

“No, Varric, really.” Hawke spoke resolutely and when Varric looked up at her tone she reached her hand out to the wolf beside her again. “I’d rather sleep on the floor.”

Varric barely paused before nodding, then he placed the rug out on the table between them. “Okay, but don’t come complaining to me when you have a stiff neck in the morning. I have far more padding me from the floor.”

Hawke said nothing but was intensely grateful for the easy acceptance with which Varric seemed to understand her wishes. She retrieved the shawl she had used in the alleyway, arranged the blanket into a suitable nest on the uneven, dusty floor and then covered herself with the thin piece of material. It was a warm enough country that she didn’t need to worry about getting cold in the night.

Varric climbed into his bed a little while after Riona with a quiet goodnight then blew out the candle. Hawke didn’t reply, curled on her side and with her back to him, he had probably assumed she was already asleep but she felt far from the Fade at that moment. Her mind raced, finally beginning to process the revelations of the evening.

Fenris, her wonderful Fenris, was now padding around the small room on silent paws, thoroughly exploring the home of this strange, inexplicably kindhearted dwarf. He was a wolf, she had been a hawk but for some reason Danarius’ spell on her seemed to have worn off.

It was certainly still affecting Fenris, however.

Hawke strained her memory as hard as she could, but her recollection remained resolutely blank from the moment she felt the magic rushing over her, the intense pain like nothing she had ever felt before saturating through her very bones. Even the thought of it now caused her to curl tighter in on herself, a harsh exhale of breath escaping her. In response the white wolf whined quietly from the other side of the room and Riona let out a sad chuckle in response, a moment of despair at the impossibility of their situation.

The thought crossed her mind that maybe Fenris’ curse would expire as hers had but she quickly pushed that hope aside. Danarius had been so furious. Riona had felt the magic crackling through the air, she had seen the way he had taken the lives of those poor elves without a thought and she had been terrified by the display of his power. She had felt her own fury in the moment and how it mirrored that of the magister. His equal determination would have made him ensure that he wouldn’t make a mistake like that. Fenris wouldn’t be changing back.

Not unless she did something about it.

Riona sighed deeply to herself. She had no idea what she might be able to do. She had to get them out of town, as the first priority. After that, she could focus on any sort of plan. But she knew Danarius’ reach was dangerously large and it would be no small feat to escape him completely.

Her mind continued to chase loops around itself as she waited in the darkness. She couldn’t say how long she lay there but eventually she felt a warm weight against her back. The wolf, Fenris, had finally come to settle down and he curled alongside her, she felt herself being enveloped in his warm fur and even in this warm climate, she couldn’t bear to pull away.

She had Fenris, he was here and they were out of Danarius’ mansion. If they were together, she knew that they would find a way through.

With that thought finally silencing the rest of her tired mind, she slipped away to the Fade.

>>><<>><<>><<>><<< 

“Hawke—Hawke, you’d better wake up.”

Riona opened her eyes to the unfamiliar golden eyes peering at her above a wide, crooked nose.

“Varric?” She mumbled, head slowly catching up to her surroundings. “Oh, here I hoped it was all a dream.” She moaned and dropped her head back to her arm. There was a movement behind her, a cool draught reaching her back and then a wet nose intruded unpleasantly on her ear. She leapt forwards with a yelp and then turned back around to reach for Fenris.

“No such luck. But we need to get you out of here. It’s going to be light soon.” Hawke sighed in reply and sat up, holding the great white head in both hands and staring into Fenris’ eyes.

“Not a dream.” Riona muttered, just between them. She stood determinedly and turned to Varric. “Okay, you have a plan?”

“I didn’t say that. But I have something more than you did.” Varric had his head deep in the wardrobe.

“Then, you have breakfast?” Riona’s stomach made itself known and Varric chuckled.

“Sure, there’s some bread and fruits under the pot over there.” He gestured vaguely with one hand as he withdrew from the wardrobe, something held in the other.

Riona gratefully grabbed for a sweet pear, only now realising that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast the previous day. At least, that she could remember.

Meanwhile, Varric had apparently been searching for a bag and was now filling it with items from around his cabin, some clothes, a few pieces of food, a coin purse. All the time, Fenris stayed close by Riona’s side, his eyes fixed on Varric bustling around the small space. In a matter of minutes, he had gathered everything he needed and Riona had replaced her belt and shoes that she had removed for bed.

At the door, Varric pressed the bag on her.

“What? No, this is yours.” Riona protested immediately, hesitant to take anything more from the dwarf.

“Trust me, any hero setting off on their adventure needs supplies. And it’s nothing I’m that attached to.”

“I saw you put money in there.”

“I can get more. Just stay quiet and take it. We need to get moving.” He forced the bag into her hands again and pushed the door open.

Setting her face into an unimpressed grimace, Riona hooked the bag over her shoulder and followed him through the small entrance into the still, dark street beyond.

Their footsteps echoed back at them, making Riona obsessively check over her shoulder every few paces to see if they were being followed. The rare lantern that remained lit from the previous night threw shadows down alleyways that could be mistaken as a predator waiting to pounce.

They stepped hurriedly and silently through the streets, talking too much of a risk. Turning onto a street with a clear view to the eastern port, where Varric had been leading them, Riona could see the many ships harboured there. On the horizon beyond there was a hint of the sky lightening, the beginning of the new day inexplicably causing hope to bubble up as the colour spread across the morning haze.

They increased their pace down the street, still keeping to the shadows that in the approach of daylight would soon be gone. Then Riona heard the scratch and stumble of claws on the cobbled ground. She turned to see Fenris frozen in place in the middle of the street.

His legs were stiffened and straight, his head hung low and his ears were pulled back in distress. He let out a low whine and Riona stepped to his side, watching his eyes lift to meet hers.

“Fenris what is it?” She looked nervously around as the grey light before the dawn hung around them and the sounds of life could be heard stirring around them. As a gull called out to the morning, Riona grabbed Fenris by the scruff of his neck and tried to pull him into a smaller side alley, behind one of those well concealed entrances she had learnt to spot. “Please don’t do this to me.”

She could feel him breathing heavily and as she bent down she could hear the low whine he was making.

“Hawke, what’s up?” Varric hissed, following them into the side street and looking over his shoulder anxiously.

She didn’t answer, running her hands soothingly over Fenris, trying to feel for any obvious sign of his ailment. She stubbornly ignored the throbbing sensation that had just started at the base of her skull.

“We need to keep moving.” Varric said, but tempered at her backwards glance, “Is he okay?”

“I don’t know, I don’t really have much experience in the whole ‘looking after your wolf lover’ thing.” She snapped back, the pressure growing in her head because what she really needed was something else to worry about. She sat in front of him, hands on either side of his neck and trying to look into his eyes.

Fenris stepped forwards slightly, his head coming to rest on Riona’s shoulder and she wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers burying into his colourless fur. She leaned her head against his own and pushed back at the persistent throbbing in her skull.

“I don’t know what’s happening. I can’t do anything.” She said weakly into his fur.

The feeling grew on her, a kind of twitching under her skin, pressing outwards like something inside her didn’t fit properly. Before her attention was dragged wholly to her own problems she felt Fenris shift his head against hers and something under his skin…moved.

She began to draw back, stricken with concern.

“Fenris-Varric, what—?” For a moment there was something under her hands that felt less like fur, more like hair. Then her mind was drawn away, pulled inside herself where a conflict was occurring. She was her but something in her mind was not her, trying to take over. Her skin felt wrong, stretched and it itched.

It couldn’t be that, not again.

“Oh sh-”

In her dim awareness, she heard Varric complete her sentiment before her mind was not her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and thank you for the comments, they are as wonderful to me as Fenris is to Hawke


	4. Safe Harbour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Varric, if we don’t find your friend soon, we need to find a different plan of escape.”
> 
> “She’ll be here, we still haven’t tried the far end.”
> 
> “Minrathous is an island. We could circle the whole docks looking for her and still be here this evening.”

“Oh, oh that is a whole load of ass I did not need this early in the morning.” The voice came from behind him and Fenris whirled around into a crouch to face the new threat. Only realising his mistake when it felt like his head kept spinning after his body came to a stop, he had to throw out his hands on either side of him to stay upright.

“What do you want?” He growled and the dwarf he was facing held up a hand between them, covering his view of Fenris.

He took a breath and tried to quickly assess his surroundings. The dwarf seemed non-violent but it was possible that was a façade. They were somewhere in the lower class part of town, he couldn’t see beyond the walls enclosing the small street they were in to figure out where exactly. He was nude, which was easily remedied after he worked out what was going on, although—

“Could we possibly see about putting some clothes on, then I’ll do all this again.” The dwarf protested. He took a step towards Fenris but immediately halted when Fenris leapt backwards, perhaps a little unsteady but covering it as well as he could so that he could keep his eyes on this stranger. The dwarf certainly wasn’t from these parts, he couldn’t have magic and his accent was foreign. As far as posing a threat, he had some kind of weapon on his back but he wasn’t making any moves to reach for it and it looked to Fenris like an unwieldy thing, difficult to access in a hurry. Of course any man familiar with his weapon was confident he had it with his reach at the smallest trip of a situation.

“Okay, woah. I really am starting from the beginning again, aren’t I. Look, I’m Varric, I’m a friend. And I would really appreciate you putting anything on.” He still held out one hand placatingly in front of himself before using it to gesture at a pile of things next to Fenris, who begrudgingly snatched the pair of trousers and pulled them on roughly.

“I don’t have friends.”

“I wish Hawke could have told me you would be so prickly.”

“You know Hawke?” Fenris clenched his fist while his eyes darted around the small space, half expecting to see her appear, perhaps held there against her will. Quickly he spotted the hawk perched on the top of the small wall, eyeing him impudently, much like she had as he chased her wild through flight through the streets most of the previous day. Only, he couldn’t remember catching up.

“We have been acquainted, yes. Don’t panic, your woman is fine…was fine? …Your bird? This is going to take getting used to.” The dwarf rubbed his fingers over his brow, a gesture possibly borne out of exasperation. Fenris couldn’t understand any of it.

“Was?”

“Is! Is.” The dwarf hurried to make the correction and Fenris’ sceptical frown deepened.

“You still haven’t told me what you want.” He demanded and the dwarf focused on him keenly. Fenris rubbed his own head in irritation, a throbbing in his temple drawing his ire while the lyrium under his skin felt…unsettled.

“I want the same thing you do. We’re getting you out of here, and to have any hope of that we need to get moving.” The dwarf was shifting and looking around him nervously, much like Fenris, as the muted sounds of Minrathous grew around them. He gestured back to the obscured road behind himself but Fenris didn’t move at all.

“And Hawke?”

“Is the hawk, yes.” Varric explained impatiently and Fenris narrowed his eyes.

“What do you know?” He demanded and he saw the dwarf visibly sigh.

“Alright, fine. You asked. But will you just listen, believe me and then get moving?” The dwarf suggested and Fenris grunted, making sure to convey neither confirmation nor disagreement. With an exaggerated eye roll Varric continued, “I figured that would be too much to ask.”

When Fenris only exaggerated his impatient look, for the benefit of this evasive dwarf, he received a quick look up and down before the dwarf began to speak quickly. “First, Hawke is fine. Though we haven’t figured out the details, it looks like she turns into a hawk when you turn back into an elf.”

“ _Back_ into an elf?”

“That was the other side of Danarius’ curse. You just spent the last night as a wolf.”

Fenris tensed. This Varric knew about Danarius, a detail that immediately betrayed their weakness and Fenris grew defensive, trying to rationalise that if the dwarf had spoken to Hawke, there was the source of his information. His story certainly made sense, Fenris riled bitterly at Danarius’ choice of a animal for himself.

“I was a wolf?” Varric nodded. “And I don’t remember it?” At this, Varric smiled at some private joke but shifted to a more serious expression.

“I wanted to ask you about that. You remember nothing at all?”

“No.” It was a sensation he was all too familiar with. It was just more time that Danarius was able to take away from him.

“Hmm, neither could she. But I don’t know whether that means there’s none of you at all in the wolf, or her in the bird.” Now Varric gave Fenris another appraising look, and Fenris took the opportunity to return it. His initial judgements still seemed to hold true - the dwarf seemed sincere, at least, in what he was saying. “So, now you know about as much as we were able to figure out, other than the fact you need to get out of town because I highly doubt Danarius is ready to let you walk away just like that.”

 “And you figured this out…?”

“About 10 minutes ago, actually. It’s a bit hard to miss when your house guest turns into a bird and her wolf becomes an elf. Which is, well… Other than the actual curse, I don’t know anything about the two of you, I don’t know who she is and I didn’t expect you to be an elf or a—” He paused and Fenris narrowed his eyes, silently daring Varric to say what he was thinking, “—a slave.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand.” Not that Fenris did, himself.

“I don’t, but I know she was very open in her feelings for you.”

“Was she?” His question came out sounding harsh to his ears, scathing, when he was wondering exactly what she had said to the dwarf, how she had phrased it. He recalled, like her voice was burning in his ears, when she had announced her love for him in front of Danarius. He had half thought it to be a ploy, a taunt to goad Danarius even further but in his heart he knew it was true, just as he had longed to tell her he felt the same. But the opportunity had been torn away. If he assumed correctly about this curse, he would never see her face to tell her, ever again.

The enormity of everything began to press in on him but he had to push it away, setting his eyes on the dwarf once more, and the hawk perched on the wall behind, her head tilted expectantly. He knew they had to move on, quickly. Fenris was both gratified and unsettled that Varric seemed to know instinctively just what to say, and to skip on the unnecessary details, in order to make Fenris set off.

And so Fenris finally grabbed the shirt also lying on the floor. He assumed from the warmth still in the material that it was the same one Hawke had been wearing only moments earlier. As he pulled it on he allowed himself a moment to take in the scent of her, surprisingly more familiar than he had previously realised and equally reassuring in the way it enveloped him. He was unnerved by the fact that his markings prickled against the material, the lyrium feeling active under his skin like it hadn’t since it had first been put there, since his earliest memories began.

Meanwhile, Varric already knew something about their connection to Danarius, whether he understood the significance of the markings he was unashamedly ogling was uncertain, but other people would certainly recognise them and their presence would remain in their minds, not something Fenris wanted if he was to pass undetected through the streets.

“Do you have anything with a hood, and longer sleeves?” He asked, unrolling the sleeves of the shirt he wore, still leaving a good few inches above his wrist uncovered.

“Isn’t that going to make you more noticeable?”

“Many people have reason to hide their identities in these streets, and there are many more who cover their face than those that wear Danarius’ lyrium markings.”

“ _Lyrium_ markings?” Varric repeated incredulously but at Fenris’ expression he said no more, gesturing instead. “In the bag, there’s a cloak.”

Fenris’ attention turned to the bag lying on the ground as he wondered about the state of their situation. He didn’t know what Danarius was thinking and that was an unsettling thought, both as someone on the run from him, and as someone who had been privy to most of his thoughts for as long as he could remember. The man was dangerous, he could have any number of people looking out for them by now, and surely at least half of Minrathous would be able to recognise him. With the bag slung over his shoulder and the hood of the cloak arranged to cover his conspicuous hair, he regretted that Hawke’s plan of sneaking out had been disrupted by his reappearance.

“You know what we’re going to do?”

“We’re meeting my friend at the docks.” Fenris imagined another rebuke concerning the fact he had no friends to take his side but he quelled it, realising that their speed was a greater concern than arguing.

“And Hawke?”

“Well, if she’s anything like you were—” As they both turned to look at her, the hawk let out a chirp and then smoothly glided towards Fenris, who instinctively held up his arm for her to land on. Varric chuckled, his theory proven, “—she’ll be fairly easy to bring along.”

Fenris winced as the thin layers of cloth offered his skin little protection from her claws but he could do little about it now. She seemed quite content to travel with him, or on him, and he supposed he was more grateful about that than any small discomfort it caused him. He nodded to Varric and the dwarf pulled aside the covering onto the main street.

The street was occupied by only a few early risers but that now meant they had less cover in which to hide. Every one of the people up and about would surely notice the strange party of a hooded man, a dwarf and a hawk.

The way in which Danarius had dismissed him the previous day sent a chill through Fenris as he mused over his master’s intent. Every sideways glance they attracted he tried not to draw back from, wondering if this person would be tempted by whatever price might be on their heads, if they identified who he was under the hood.

He shuffled closer to the dwarf and spoke under his breath. “You have heard no word on…my master?” He chose not to speak Danarius’ name, a fear that if it were even overheard it might draw attention to them, Varric gave him a strange look but replied to the question.

“I have no idea what’s going on here, you know more than I do about that man.”

“And your friend at the docks? They have a ship?”

“That she does, and a promise to get me out of whatever trouble I get myself into while I’m in town.” Fenris gave him a steady look from under the hood but the dwarf smiled and shrugged amicably. “Her words, not mine. It’s nice to have someone ready to take my back, no questions asked.”

“What you are taking on with us might be more than either of you bargained for.” Fenris intoned warningly and was once again taken aback when Varric simply chuckled.

“You know, there’s just something about the two of you.” He looked at the bird on Fenris’ arm and she only chirped in response, wings slightly raised to steady herself as they walked. “You make quite the unlikely pair.”

“That’s what my master thought.” Fenris muttered and Varric frowned.

“Elf, he’s not your master anymore.” Varric said the words as if they were simple. To Fenris they were anything but.

To not have a master.

He couldn’t comprehend what that might mean. Surely no master meant no shackles, that he was free. But this could not be called freedom. Skulking through the streets he knew well, running in fear for his life. When he had dared to imagine a type of freedom, only after Hawke opened his mind to the possibility, it had been a long way removed from this.

As he had been thinking, his feet had unconsciously continued to trail the dwarf down the street. After all, following was something he knew very well how to do. He snapped back to the realisation that he could not let his guard drop, even as he scouted their surroundings for potential threats at all times, he had to think for himself where they were going. He was not a shadow anymore. Or even if he didn’t know exactly where they were going, he must stay one step ahead of everyone else around him.

They found themselves emerging from the end of the street into a crowd around the wharves. As the market stalls and early fishing boats came in, so the slaves arrived to buy their master’s breakfasts or wares. The swift change in volume of people startled the hawk on his arm and she dug her claws into his flesh before springing straight into the air. Fenris couldn’t do anything to stop her and could only watch as she spiralled agitatedly a couple of times, coming to rest on the crossbar of a nearby boat’s mast.

He looked around swiftly to see a few of the surrounding heads upturned, watching the oddity of the bird, but none of them seemed to connect it back to him. He relaxed slightly into the anonymity of the crowd.

“Your friend?” He turned to Varric, eyebrows raised expectantly for the next direction.

“Get out to the ships, you’ll have to lead us Elf, as you’re the only one tall enough to see in this blighted crowd.” Varric’s voice was muffled as he was jostled by many elves in a hurry to get on with their masters’ assignments.

“I’m not often accused of that.” Fenris replied wryly and only caught Varric muttering something about a poor sense of timing and birds of a feather.

Nevertheless they made their way beyond the crowds onto the relatively less crowded walkways between the moored boats. It was here that Varric revealed he didn’t actually know where the boat he was looking for was, or what it looked like.

“I thought you arrived on it?” Fenris turned on him, keeping his voice as low as his anger allowed.

“I didn’t say that, only that she was my friend, and she has a boat.”

“Which you haven’t seen.”

“Not exactly. But I did arrange that she would arrive a couple of days ago, which is when I thought I might be ready to leave.”

“Dwarf, are you telling me you don’t even know if she _is_ here at all?”

“She gave me her word. And she owes me.”

“The word of your friend isn’t something I’m willing to stake Hawke’s life on.”

“Look, we just need to have a scout around. The ship’s called The Siren’s Call.”

“And your friend?”

“It’s…probably best we don’t go calling her name out around the docks.”

“Dwarf, you’re giving me very little reason to follow you.”

“And you know, Elf, that Hawke agreed this was our best chance at getting you out of the city. She’s going to be a little confused when she doesn’t wake up on a ship being carried out of Danarius’ reach.”

Fenris stopped completely still, staring at the dwarf before him, not trying to conceal the contempt in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, to let out the helpless anger he felt at the comment but Varric beat him to it.

“No, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. But you have to admit, there’s no other option. You’ll just have to trust me.”

“I can’t do that.” He said stubbornly but he saw a brief flicker of something cross Varric’s face and he felt moved to continue. “I can’t trust you, but Hawke did. And I trust her.” He saw the winning smile spread across the dwarf’s face as he turned away to look up at the masts above them.

“I’m glad. Now we’d better keep looking. If we’re lucky, she’s changed the black sails for something that’ll blend in better.”

“I hope you’re joking?” Fenris managed to lighten his tone as Varric looked around at the harboured ships and chose a jetty, seemingly at random, to walk down.

“Just trust me elf.”

“Say that one more time.” He muttered at the wide back of the unrepentant dwarf.

They kept walking as the early morning fog lifted from around the boats, fishing dinghies and schooners came into dock with their catch while others left with the changing tide. All the while, they could find no sign of the Siren’s Call and Fenris was feeling increasingly on edge. Even with increasing numbers of people on the waterfront market, Varric and Fenris were some of the few on the wharves themselves and every moment felt more and more likely that they were going to be spotted.

“Varric, if we don’t find your friend soon, we need to find a different plan of escape.”

“She’ll be here, we still haven’t tried the far end.”

“Minrathous is an island. We could circle the whole docks looking for her and still be here this evening.”

“I know that. That’s why I told her the East dock. Easiest turnaround to the open sea that way, too.” Varric was unremittingly cheerfully and Fenris scowled up at the sky, checking that Hawke, as she had been doing for the rest of the morning, was still flitting between ships, keeping her eye on their progress.

While he was still looking up he didn’t notice that the dwarf beside him had stopped, so when a hand clapped on his back with no warning, he jumped away with a snarl and a prickling flare of lyrium across his skin. Varric immediately put his hands up, as if in surrender, a look of fear on his face that Fenris was all too familiar with, although he was not used to the feeling of guilt that also arose in him, as he quickly willed the veins of light to cool down.

“That’s one way of telling people you don’t like to be touched.” Varric said in a strange voice, struggling to sound lighthearted.

“My apologies, I…” He glanced down and hissed in horror himself. All the effort Danarius had usually gone to in making sure the marking were on full display had apparently been pointless, as the still fading light shone easily through the rough cloak Fenris was wearing. He could almost feel people’s attentions being drawn to him, the anxious shiver across his skin growing, not entirely due to the irritation of his accursed lyrium.

“Don’t need to explain it elf. What I was saying was that we don’t need to worry any longer.” He paused for dramatic effect and appeared to sigh when Fenris only growled at him to hurry up. “There she is.” The dwarf gestured ahead of them to a fine looking ship, as far as Fenris could recognise quality in boats. It was certainly…afloat.

“Then let’s get on it.”

“I think we need permission from the captain before you board.”

“Move it, dwarf.” Fenris gritted his teeth, trying to surreptitiously look over his shoulder while also chivvying his companion forwards.

“Alright fine, I’ll just have to vouch for you,” He gave a sideways glance at Fenris and raised a brow, “if you don’t make that too difficult for me.”

Fenris said nothing and strode towards the tall ship. As he drew near he heard a voice from beyond his view, apparently up on the deck. Glancing upwards, his feet came to a stop. Of course.

The very ship he approached was the one Hawke had decided to perch on, and from the sounds of it, she had managed to draw the attention, and cooing, of those on board. Then Varric took his place beside him and hollered out to the crew.

“Ahoy there. Dwarf on the wharf.” He chuckled and looked to Fenris for his reaction to the rhyme, only to be disappointed. A scuffle came from above and then a figure with waves of dark hair and more than a flash of gold appeared, hanging over the ledge above their heads.

“Varric! You took your time.” A pause as Fenris saw her eyes flick over himself and then, in a more serious voice, “The capstans in a tangle again.”

“No, you’ve got to… oh nugshit, I don’t remember. He’s fine, Isabela, I’m good.” He shouted back up and then with a turn to Fenris he said under his breath, “Emergency code.”

“Subtle.”

“She came up with it,” He replied and Fenris would almost have said he sounded like he was sulking. It was a brief moment however, in the next the gangplank rolled from the bulwarks of the ship and they stepped aboard.

“So you did make it back in one piece then?” The jewelled woman said to Varric, giving him a glance as if counting his limbs and quickly turned to Fenris, to give him a much longer look. “Isabela, Captain of the Siren’s Call, and you are?”

Fenris was still watching her warily, glancing around at the few people on the deck who seemed to have readily gone back to their work. He was familiar with the posture of people appearing busy while listening eagerly for new gossip.

“He’s a friend.” Varric spoke before Fenris could. “And a refugee we’re helping. He and his …friend.” Isabela raised her eyebrows at that, looking expectantly behind them as if someone else was about to follow them up the gangplank. Fenris stopped himself from turning to do the same, a hand clenched at his side. Hawke would never appear behind him, wrapping her arms around him suddenly, while he always knew it was her. Only her. Instead he dragged his mind to the present and looked up, along with Varric, to the bird above them.

Isabela followed their gaze and laughed. “She’s yours? She’s stunning. And clearly has good taste in ships.” She added with a laugh, something throaty and loose, the kind of easy joy he had so rarely heard, before Hawke. He didn’t question why Isabela had assumed the bird was a she, perhaps when you refer to boats as such, you start seeing everything that way.

“She’s not mine. She’s free.” He spoke while still looking at the hawk calmly preening feather on her back, both wings extended slightly to counter the swaying of the ship and the wind high up in the mast.

“Your friend, right. Well, do I get to see your face under that hood?”

“Perhaps when you’re moving, Captain?” Varric spoke again in his place and Fenris found himself both frustrated and reassured by someone else taking the lead. However Isabela gave him a look and that was what drew Fenris’ attention to the strange emphasis of the statement.

“You’re not planning on coming with us?”

“There’s something I need to do first. And you need to get out of here now. So you,” He looked to the captain, “are going to pick me up from our Plan B two nights from now, because Andraste knows, I’ve had enough of this place.”

“Aye aye.” She replied with a grin, seemingly unfazed but Fenris was immediately on guard.

“What are you doing? Was this some plot to trap us?” He took a step backwards, a hand scrabbling behind him to find the edge.

“No, no!” Varric looked immediately remorseful and Fenris saw his wordless plea to Isabela for support. “Believe me buddy. We’re on your side. My talent, one of my talents, is getting information from people, even when they don’t realise they have it themselves.” Fenris was intrigued enough by where this was going to pause in his retreat. “I’m going to do what I can to help you stay one step ahead of Danarius, by finding out what he’s doing.”

Fenris glanced at Isabela and decided that either she had an excellent poker face, or she didn’t recognise the name Danarius. He wasn’t sure which unsettled him more.

“Listen, elf. You need to help me and yourself by getting the void out of dodge.”

Fenris privately agreed, but had many reservations about this …twist of events. It sounded like someone else was taking another huge risk for his sake, and he barely understood why Hawke would stand up for him, never mind someone who knew nothing more about him than that he was an escaped slave with a curse. He was lost in his bewilderment and most frustrated that he couldn’t think of an argument for the dwarf.

“But…why?”

Varric gave him a sad look, leaving Fenris feeling like the dwarf understood more of his thoughts than he cared to imagine, and said, “Look, for the sake of speed, let’s say I’m doing it for Hawke. Will you believe me then?” He was now moving towards Fenris, or rather to the top of the gangplank, waiting for Fenris to move aside.

Fenris slowly, begrudgingly, stepped away from the gangplank, allowing Varric passage from the ship. When the dwarf was halfway down the ramp he turned back. “Take care of yourself, Fenris, and you, behave yourself.”

“Could you be doubting my character, Varric? I’m always on my best behaviour.” Captain Isabela had something about her, a certain leisure as she casually leaned her hip against the side of the boat, that Fenris didn’t know he would begin to understand.

“You and I have different measures of quality, then,” Varric swiftly responded.

“Dwarf,” He couldn’t find the words, too many mixed feelings about being left here with company he was neither used to nor sure he could trust, by someone he had only just met and for no apparent reason seemed to have won his faith. “Varric. I am grateful for everything you’ve done for us.”

“Thank me when I get you something useful. And have fun explaining everything important. I doubt I have to remind you, don’t leave it too late.” Varric gave a final wink to Isabela and then he turned and was heading back towards the thriving waterfront.

Isabela watched his retreating back for a moment with a still expression that seemed to sit oddly on her face, then suddenly she shot a wide grin to Fenris. With a twirl of hair and blue headscarf she was rousing the crew, a force of intent mastering the people around her. Fenris saw how they all fell into position before her, tying and heaving and doing whatever tasks were required to get the ship on its way.

He watched the smaller sail at the front of the boat fill and The Siren’s Call slowly creeped from its moored position, edging ever closer to the open sea.

Fenris had never left Minrathous without Danarius. This moment, as they loosed the mooring lines connecting them to the island, marked the furthest he had ever been from his master.

His former master.

Upset by the mainsail being raised, Hawke drifted down to the deck level and landed on Fenris’ reflexively raised arm. She clicked her beak at him and he smiled mirthlessly.

“I’m leaving him, Hawke. This is what you wanted.” She turned her other eye on him and he nodded resolutely. “You’ll see for yourself.”

He looked once more at the bustle surrounding him, Isabela had taken position at the helm for the difficult task of steering the ship out of the docks while the rest of her crew were still busy crossing the deck, roping sails, doing what needed to be done. Fenris had no idea what he was meant to do, he was out of place on a ship, out of place without orders. The shore of Minrathous behind him still looked exceedingly close and he felt exposed to view. Thinking of concealment, Fenris made his way to the door that seemed to lead below decks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, i was distracted by many things this week, not least of all playing the new DLC. Hope you enjoy this chapter, poor Fenris has so many things to deal with


	5. A Wolf Among Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How do you know you’re not eating, as a bird I mean? They’re pretty good at looking after themselves.”
> 
> “Maker don’t make me picture myself eating something…like that. I’m trying to eat actual food here.”
> 
> “There’s always a few rats on the docks.” The woman continued with a smirk and Riona held up her hand, intent only on making her stop.

“Wow.”

“I know. You should see me when I haven’t just woken up.” Hawke responded unthinkingly to the warm voice before she had opened her eyes. The soft candlelight illuminating the small room was gentle enough that her eyes weren’t dazzled and she quickly focused on the woman sat on the bed opposite her.

The woman was grinning broadly at her response and it lit up her golden brown eyes, highlighting cheekbones and dark hair that rippled with her movement, casually held back by from her face with a blue headscarf. Hawke drew her attention back to her surroundings. The woman was sat on the only bed in the room, Riona herself was in some kind of chair, not a particularly comfy one, as the crick in her neck proved when she tried to sit up straighter.

She grabbed hastily at the blanket that slipped from her with the motion and grinned in relief when she kept her modesty intact. Then she remembered why she was waking up naked in an unfamiliar room. Just her luck. Didn’t it always turn out to be a dream when it should be real and always real when she really hoped it was a dream.

“Oh, no need to be shy, gorgeous. Someone had to throw a blanket over you when you turned. I hope you don’t think I would let any of my crew sully that.”

Still properly awakening from her sleep, Riona was struck by the last conscious thought she’d had. It seemed their curse was repeating, when she had foolishly thought that her time as an animal had ended. She was wrong. And apparently this woman knew about it.

“What time is it?” Hawke queried, more cautiously now, not engaging in the innuendo laden comment from the woman, that she had technically started with her first comment.

“Almost midnight now. You’ve been asleep since late afternoon.”

“Well, that certainly made it more pleasant than yesterday. Wait, have you been sat watching me all the time?”

“Hmm, I wish. I just happened to look in on you at the right time. I brought you dinner.”

That comment seemed to encourage Riona’s stomach to add its opinion to the conversation, and she apologetically laughed as she took the offered bread and meat. “Thanks, maybe there’s a problem with not eating for a day at a time.”

“How do you know you’re not eating, as a bird I mean? They’re pretty good at looking after themselves.”

“Maker don’t make me picture myself eating something…like that. I’m trying to eat actual food here.”

“There’s always a few rats on the docks.” The woman continued with a smirk and Riona held up her hand, intent only on making her stop.

“I take it you’re Varric’s friend? Isabela?” Riona didn’t think she could get used to waking up with other people she’d never met knowing things about her. Having had whole conversations about her.

“Captain Isabela. I hope Varric didn’t sell me short on that.”

“I don’t think Varric did you justice in many ways. And we’re at sea? We’ve left Minrathous?”

“You’re definitely at sea. Your hooded friend wouldn’t tell me what exactly it is we’re running from, other than a magister.”

“You shouldn’t underestimate that magister.” She warned though her mind was already thinking of Fenris, wondering how he was coping with this.

“Captain! Captain we have a problem!” A shout echoed from beyond the room and both Riona and Isabela twisted simultaneously to look toward the door. Isabela was on her feet and pulling it open before Riona even considered moving, and a then there was a panicked looking man framed in the doorway.

“The wolf, captain. It’s savage! We got it locked in a room but it near tore off Hakan’s arm.” Riona made to stand and go to Fenris before being reminded all too intensely of her nudity behind the blanket, that she had managed to continue holding up to her chin. The shipmate at the door caught sight of her at the movement and she wasn’t fond of the way his eye immediately took in the loosely draped blanket she was hurriedly refitting around herself.

Isabela stepped neatly into his line of vision, cutting off his view. “Sounds like you shouldn’t unlock that door then. We’ll be there soon enough.” She shut the door on him before he could answer back, or indulge his wandering eyes, and then the captain turned once more to Riona and pointed to the space next to her. “Your bag of is there if you have spare clothes, but I have some that might suit you better, unless you’re particularly fond of dwarf length breeches?”

Riona nodded exaggeratedly, making her way to the chest that Isabela had gestured towards and realised as she opened the drawer that this must be the Captain’s quarters. It made sense, from her scant experience with ships, she hadn’t known many cabins to have an actual bed. She took the first items she saw, figuring that Isabela was close enough in build to herself that she wouldn’t need to be picky, and hurriedly dressed herself in a loose, navy blouse and tight breeches.

Riona stood to see the captain had politely, and unexpectedly, averted her gaze, then gestured for her to lead the way. She needed to get to Fenris, find some way to calm him down if he was hurting people, or himself.

She had asked Isabela to go ahead because she was unfamiliar with the layout of the ship, but the guidance turned out to be unnecessary. The sounds of people fussing and chattering led them easily down the narrow, swaying corridor, to a small crowd gathered around a door with a large barrel shoved in front. Clearly the door wasn’t made to be locked from the outside.

Riona stepped forwards, pushing her way through the small throng of excited people and began pointedly heaving at the barrel. A couple of people stepped forwards, though whether to help or hinder she wasn’t sure, as a voice called out from the gathered men and those who had been moving stopped sharply.

“What do you think you’re doing lass?”

Riona didn’t reply, as she braced her feet to put more weight behind the barrel.

“There’s a wild wolf in there, girl. Do you understand me? It’s vicious.”

“He’s not. I need to get to him.” She replied, giving him her best attempt at a withering stare.

“You’re a fool, girl.”

“Then rid yourself of this fool by letting me in there.” She snapped back and after she sensed some silent conference happening behind her, finally someone stepped forward and between them the barrel was shifted from the doorway. Riona also registered that Isabela had stayed back during all of this, observing but not commanding her men either way.

She hadn’t heard a sound from the other side of the door throughout all of this and she was worried exactly what Fenris might have done to himself in there. Without taking any longer to think about it, she slipped the door open and edged through the small gap.

She barely managed to pull it closed again, when a snarl and a snap of teeth had her spinning to face the open room. A shape uncurled from the corner of the room and launched itself in a flurry of white, a tempest released.

Then his fangs latched onto her forearm and Riona yelled out in surprise as much as pain, both hitting her as sharply as the other. Even as she cried out, the wolf twisted and leapt away. His teeth pulled free but not without dragging harshly across her skin, leaving a gouge that rapidly filled with dark red blood.

She slapped her other hand to the wound, scrabbling at once to stem the bleeding and squeeze away the pain. She felt fear, her own stupidity burning at her as she looked up and saw the eyes of a wolf looking back at her. She had fooled herself into forgetting the cruel trickery of Danarius’ curse, the nature of the wolf, a creature known for its savagery in ancient and modern tales alike. Fenris may be trapped in there, but he was not in control.

Blood pumped in her ears, it trickled between her fingers, and Riona tried to plan what to do next. She could only take it slowly, show him she meant no harm and as she lifted her eyes the shout she intended for the crowd certainly still gathered outside died in her throat. The wolf had returned to the corner he had started in, now his ears were laid back, his tail curled tightly around him and his whole demeanour radiating misery as his head hung low, eyes down.

Riona glanced briefly at her forearm, decided that was a mistake and tried to ignore the warm wetness on the hand firmly pressing down on her other hand. Without the use of her hand, she used the door to push herself unsteadily upright. She felt vibrations from the other side and as she focused on them the sound of shouts and banging filtered through her senses, probably due to her lack of response. In a voice meant to carry through the wood, while not startling the cowering creature in the corner, she gently called for them to hush, also answering their queries as to whether she was still alive or not.

The noise died down as she spoke, and she walked towards the wolf. Fenris wouldn’t look at her. She stepped closer and he hung his head lower, letting out a low whine.

“Fenris, look at me.” She asked, a sentence she had already been used to repeating. His ears twitched. He didn’t look. “I know you’re in there. Something of you is in there, and I know you’re sorry. But I’m fine.” Her arm throbbed as if affronted at her lie but she winced the pain away and took another step.

The sensible part of her told her to run, that she had willingly locked herself in a room with a huge, wild wolf. The other part of her, that had never been rational, seemed uncharacteristically quiet but determined and she took the last step across the small room to kneel in front of him. He would be able to sense her fear, but she hoped he—Fenris, would also sense her connection to him, her devotion to his _true_ nature that would always keep her at his side.

She didn’t move, she simply sat in front of him, quietly whispering words of acceptance, approval, that he hadn’t hurt her badly, she would be fine, she didn’t blame him. Finally, hesitantly, Fenris raised his head, enough that his eyes met hers, that she reached out to him, one hand still clamped on her arm, the other hand guided with certainty to that spot behind his ears that her mabari back in Kirkwall loved so much.

The white ears twitched and perked to their forwards position and his body language opened out once more, calming down under her practiced fingers and finally the great tail gave one heavy thump against the floor to show his appreciation of her attentions. When she was sure Fenris, or the wolf, was soothed enough she pushed herself to her feet, walked unsteadily to the door of the room and pushed it open. She had to lean more weight than she liked on the doorframe once she reached it, hoping that Fenris wouldn’t see the drained slump of her shoulders, as she called for someone to come and bring a healer’s bag, possibly a health potion if they had any on board.

Then she returned to the wolf’s side, confident that he was calm, whether it was her presence specifically or just someone who knew what they were doing she wasn’t sure, she didn’t want to dwell on what either meant to her. When someone did arrive with bandages she had to fend off his concerns that Fenris was perfectly safe now, even as the nervous healer seemed intent to treat Hawke from the opposite side of the room until she coaxed him over, privately amused by the similarities in dealing with skittish men and cowering wolves.

>>><<>><<>><<>><<< 

The next evening Riona woke alone in the room. She found her clothes laid out again ready for her and pulled them on before heading up to the deck. Though clouds blocked what little light came from the stars and moon that night, she found Isabela stood at the prow, staring intently out over the choppy blackness where the water must be. Riona pulled her cloak tighter around herself. Despite not turning to look at who approached, the captain spoke first.

“You know, your eyes look exactly the same. Which is crazy, hawk’s eyes are nothing like human eyes but still. The colour, the intensity, it’s captivating.”

“Fenris’ are the same. It’s how I knew.” Riona couldn’t help the warmth in her voice and Isabela smirked knowingly.

“I noticed that too. He’s a bit more difficult to get on with than you but he’s a good man. I told him he’d hurt someone and I’ve never seen someone so guilty over a scratch. He tried to go straight to Hakan to apologise, before I stopped him.”

“Why did you do that?”

“It might surprise you to know I have some experience in secrets. The less who know the better and only those few who were on deck yesterday know that you didn’t bring a wolf when you boarded. I saw to it they’re sworn to silence on what they think they know. On pain of something much worse than death.”

“And you didn’t tell him…?” Riona held up her forearm, a fresh bandage on display after she had cleaned the wound with a healing salve, a thing she’d never come across before and apparently a Rivaini recipe. She had made a mental note to ask Isabela for instructions on how to recreate it, seeming like something that might come in useful, wherever they ended up going next.

“Pfft, he was already guilty enough about Hakan, I wasn’t going to deal with him if I made it worse. How is it?”

“I’ll heal. It’s better he doesn’t know until I can explain it to him myself.” Riona thought she caught the captain give her a sideways glance but with the dim light it was hard to pick up movement and when she glanced over Isabela was looking over the water again.

“Is he…safe now?” She seemed hesitant and Riona tried to give her a reassuring smile, the effect lost in the darkness of the night.

“A…wolf doesn’t like being trapped in a small room. Especially not one that’s swaying from side to side.” The cold air was causing her forearm to ache under the bandage, she wondered if it had hurt as much during the day, despite her not being able to recall any memory at all from the daylight hours.

“I guess animals don’t understand the concept of getting their sea legs. What’s he doing now?” There was something in Isabela’s voice as she asked after Fenris, not concern for him but fear of him. Fear just like he had always experienced in his life as nothing more than the living weapon of an already alarming magister.

“He’s asleep.” She knew Isabela was more concerned about the possible threat to the rest of her crew, as a good captain should be, and this was no answer but Riona was fairly confident that when she was needed, she could draw his mind out, at least enough to calm the wolf. She pushed on, before Isabela tried to extract any promise she didn’t yet know if she could keep. “So where are you taking us?”

“Plan B.”

“I wasn’t aware we had one.” Riona hesitated, was this something Fenris had come up with and again she was left out of the loop?

“You didn’t, Varric did.” Isabela replied easily. “We decided on a fallback location to meet up if things went…awry.”

“My plans have a habit of doing that.” The captain chuckled and didn’t respond. Instead something ahead of them caught her attention. Riona followed her gaze to a massive black shape emerging from the darkness ahead, an outline of a coast. There, she caught sight of a light, a lantern being covered and uncovered in what had to be a specific sequence.

Riona had no chance of making any sense of it and instead watched the focus on Isabela’s face, as she lightly bit her bottom lip. Doing this she caught the moment that the slight crease appeared between the captain’s brows.

“What is it?” She asked immediately and Isabela turned her frown onto Riona.

“A complication. That’s all he’s said.” Both their eyes turned back to the dark mass of land ahead, seeking a further message that only one of them could decipher. “Flaming arse Varric, you’d better not have forgotten these codes…” She cut off as the light flashed again.

Another pause and then she turned back to Riona once more. “He has company.”

“Behind him? Because if they’re letting him signal this is a very friendly hostage situation.” Riona knew her glibness wasn’t hiding her anxiety bu it was one way of dealing with it. She stared hard into the darkness, seeking any sign of what lay ahead. “Can we go to land there?”

Isabela took a deep breath, and said with a grim tone, “Only Varric knew those sequences. He’s ready to be picked up.”

She didn’t say more as she gave the ship’s wheel a slight turn, changing their course by a couple of degrees. Sailing onwards into the unknown blackness.

Riona twitched nervously at Isabela’s side, letting the Captain do what she thought was best and not at all reassured that this was a sensible situation to be sailing straight into. Still, Hawke knew that Minrathous was not easy to get onto, never mind away from when there was a powerful magister on their tail. Varric had made it seem simple and now it was him in trouble on their behalf.

“You must be very loyal to Varric.” She remarked.

“No more than you, sweet thing.” Isabela smirked, taking in the way her partner stood up straighter, her mind set on returning the favour to their rescuer.

“You owe him?” It wasn’t a question, it seemed Varric hadn’t been exaggerating the way he collected favours. An even trade for whatever he might need in the future. She couldn’t help but imagine what things he might have helped this captain with to win her loyalty but it wasn’t her place to ask. Isabela had been good enough to ask few questions about their highly intriguing situation. The captain merely hummed in assent, while Riona realised that crags were becoming distinct on the cliffs ahead.

Riona felt breath grow short as the cliffs grew rapidly closer and stretched above them, no obvious passage appearing through the rocky foreshore, making their course seem bound for collision. She took a nervous glance at Isabela but the Rivaini put all her attention into carefully guiding the prow across an apparently impossible route.

“Just because I like a heads up, how likely are we to crash and die?” Riona commented as the clouds across the sky briefly uncovered stars, providing enough traitorous light that Riona was forced to look at the rocks emerging from the water before them. Isabela raised an eyebrow.

“No chance. This is the Siren’s Call, and what sirens specialise in is leading sailors onto the rocks.”

“Right… and we’re sailors.” Riona found this wasn’t particularly comforting.

“No. We’re the siren.” Isabela corrected. Not trusting herself to follow pirate logic, Riona tried to plan out the correct procedure when chunks of the ship were inevitably ripped out by the unwelcoming rocks. She followed the Captain’s gaze as they continued to glide smoothly across the water, and out of nowhere a dark gash across the cliff face began to widen into an opening. It seemed almost large enough for the ship and then before Riona could think about it too hard, the rock canopy swallowed the light over their head and they were completely hidden within a pitch black cave.

“So— ISABELA!” She yelped and the captain chuckled from her side, their voices echoing on the walls apparently close around them.

“Hmhmm, just checking you’re still there.”

“Well, you found me. Now if you’ll remove your hand from my arse, tell me what happens next?”

“Scared of the dark?”

“No but armed. With knives.” She retorted but bumped her hip towards Isabela’s once she’d located her, negating the bite of her words. She heard someone, one of the few crewmen who had also been moving around on the deck release the anchor and the chain rattled down to splash into the water. The Captain sighed.

“Now, we wait. Varric is coming.”

“We can’t see a thing. What about his friends up there.”

“Let’s hope he kept his torch.” Riona huffed audibly, eliciting that easy laugh. “I know this coast but they aren’t expecting anyone to be crazy enough to sail out of here.”

“Oh excellent. Now I feel better.”

“Exactly. We get a headstart, leave them flapping about on the cliffs like a one night stand, and they’ll have lost us in the night before they manage to pull their pants up from around their ankles.”

“I’ll take your word on that one.” Riona couldn’t help but laugh at the imagery, “So how does Varric get to us?”

“I showed him the way, we’re in an old smuggling cave with a passage at the top. But it might be smart if you wait below decks. In case he brings anyone after him.”

“I can help.”

“Do that by keeping your wolf happy if he wakes up, we don’t need more complications. If you see Asanio on your way down, tell him to gather the men on deck.” Again, Riona noticed the strange tone affecting Isabela’s voice when she talked about the wolf, quite distinct from the way she spoke of Fenris.

Riona also didn’t like the idea of hiding while other people fought her battles for her. But before she could protest more she felt Isabela take her arm, leading her confidently across the deck to the inside cabins. She opened the door and Riona’s eyes startled at a lantern still lit in the corridor. Then she heard a voice from beyond the ship, echoing against the walls and bouncing around the cavern.

“Rivaini?”

“Varric!” Isabela and Riona replied together, Riona slightly perturbed by the surprise and relief also evident in the captain’s voice, gone when she continued, “You’re alone?”

“I almost wasn’t here at all. Great flaming ass, you could have made that entrance easier to find.”

Isabela pushed Riona through the door as she called back, quietly enough but it carried lyrically with the strange acoustics of the rocks. “A giant staircase would rather defeat the point of a secret escape route, wouldn’t you say?”

Varric’s reply was muffled by the door being pushed closed behind Riona and she tried only to think about the logic behind her exclusion, in case of unwanted company looking for her specifically. It was moments later, as she was almost at the door to Fenris’ room that she heard the unmistakeable sound of the anchor chain ratcheting back up into place. Varric must be aboard. She pushed herself through the door, ignoring her curiosity and sank down to the floor. Fenris quickly padded over to her, lying alongside her legs and lifting his head into her lap. His green eyes raised to her face and he seemed to be watching her nervous jumping at the loud grinding of the chain, brows giving him a somehow disdainful expression.

“Oh quiet you. I’m allowed to worry.” While she’d always been strong for Fenris, reassuring him she’d get him out, telling him she knew what she was doing with Danarius, she couldn’t help but think of the powerful reminders she’d had that it wasn’t really him there. Not completely.

She could let her walls down with him now more than ever and it made her wish she’d done so more to his face when she could. In the morning he wouldn’t remember this night at all and she’d be the mindless animal when he needed her.

She curled up to bury her face in his fur, hiding from the dark thoughts that can’t be chased away in the middle of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this one took me so long. With the new DLC announcement and packing up to move out of my flat, I had a hard time concentrating. Thanks for reading


	6. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris looked down at the map, a world of places he’d heard mentioned any number of times but he didn’t know any of them. There was so little he had experienced of the world, outside of the life at Danarius’ heel.
> 
> “Hawke has travelled, surely she would be more capable in planning a…”
> 
> “Hawke isn’t here.”

Fenris was angry. It should have been better than this. Perhaps there were no longer rules he was commanded to obey, he was not a puppet of a cruel and unforgiving magister any more, but Danarius still lingered. He felt the constant threat of seeing his master, could only imagine the price he would pay for his disobedience. It was a particularly cruel fate the Danarius had not truly let him go, not the way he had phrased their parting. This was supposed to be the freedom Hawke had fought for, had sacrificed her own freedom for. Instead they were tied together in a curse he couldn’t see an end to.

It should have been better. Fenris was angry.

“Oh, I see you’re in a good mood. I was worried I’d have to put up with you brooding again all day.” He heard the ever cheerful voice of the dwarf as he entered the room and sighed. He was necessary.

“I don’t brood.”

“Of course not. This is you happy, thinking of puppies and roses.”

“Did you have something to say?”

“Don’t I always? But yes, Rivaini’s on her way. We need to come up with a plan.”

“A plan?” Fenris frowned, giving no other sign of the tenseness that came upon him at the prospect.

“What next, where she’s taking you.” Varric carried on, blissfully oblivious to Fenris’ hesitation.

Fenris couldn’t plan, he didn’t know how to take that responsibility, especially the responsibility of deciding for both himself and Hawke. Separating from her didn’t bear consideration. He couldn’t do this without her, even when her only input was a meaningless chirp and a flap of wings as the rockier movement of the ship unsettled her from the flat surface of the table.

He waited quietly, safe in the knowledge that Varric would attribute his silence to nothing other than his apparent propensity to brood. When Isabela arrived she swayed into the room, saving none of the performance despite her audience being only the two of them. She unhurriedly reached around Fenris to the chest behind him and lay out a map on the table before them.

The unfamiliar markings and shadings of the map confused him at first, before certain shapes stood out and he realised he was looking at a sea map of northern Thedas. The oceans had to be showing the currents or hazards relevant to sailors, while the land was scarcely marked, save for the major coastal towns and cities. He identified where their ship must be, roughly, based on Isabela’s explanation earlier in the day, heading out of the huge bay around which Tevinter curled.

He looked up at Isabela, whose eyes were knowingly fixed on Varric with a smile. The dwarf was still staring at the map, a frown on his face and for once not saying anything. Slowly Isabela reached out and placed her long finger next to where Minrathous was marked, allowing him to recognise the coastline.

“Oh nugshit Rivaini, why couldn’t you use a normal map.”

“I would think the captain has little use for a map of roads. Unless her ship has some magic you haven’t told me about.” Despite the way his voice lowered on the word magic, or perhaps because of it, Varric chuckled.

“Oh great, take her side. Just what I need.” He grumbled good-naturedly then leant forwards to look more closely, standing up straight to assume his story telling pose, what he did when he wanted people to listen to him. “So Elf, right now we’re heading out of Tevinter _but_ we don’t know where we are taking you.”

Fenris looked down at the map, a world of places he’d heard mentioned any number of times but he didn’t know any of them. There was so little he had experienced of the world, outside of the life at Danarius’ heel.

“Hawke has travelled, surely she would be more capable in planning a…”

“Hawke isn’t here.” Isabela looked briefly at the bird sat on the table, pecking idly at a curling corner of the map before another roll of the ship left her claws skidding uselessly across the table for lack of traction. “Or she’s not giving us the walking tour of Thedas. Besides, she travelled without any particular goal in mind. You have an aim.”

Fenris looked up at her blankly. “We do?”

“To not get caught by a crazed magister.” Varric had filled them in when he had returned to the boat. Danarius was not at all ready to let Fenris walk free. Instead he was organising a hunting party. From what Varric had gathered, Fenris and Hawke were being given a headstart but were not going to be left alone for long. Fenris had never suspected that his master would let him go, privately he knew he had been too faithful, too good a servant for Danarius to even manage without him. The small hint of pride he felt for that only made him angrier.

It didn’t appear as if he suspected anyone would have given him a ride on a ship. But it would only be a matter of days before he had to realise that he wasn’t still in the city. Then he would assume Fenris had somehow stowed away, he would be waiting for reports of a wolf caught on a ship, turning savage, as Danarius presumably had no doubt about the untamed nature of the wolf he had inflicted on Fenris.

If he was content to wait for word to reach him of a wolf caught and killed, he would be delayed for some time at least. Varric also hadn’t been able to hear any word of the curse, so while Danarius reported his missing slave to a choice collection of ears, it seemed he was keeping the most distinguishable part of the story to himself. How Varric had been able to find what Danarius was sending out through his channels, Fenris couldn’t even pretend to understand. It seemed that the followers that had been after Varric on the coast were more concerned with something he had done and were not aware of the other people he was protecting. Or at least they had been held up by the treacherous seas long enough that the inhabitants of the Siren’s Call hadn’t been worried by them yet.

“Avoiding Danarius doesn’t give us a destination to work towards.” Fenris continued stubbornly, reaching out to let Hawke hop onto his arm. He had begun to pad his sleeve on that arm, so that when the bird walked up to his shoulder, her talons didn’t claw into his skin quite so painfully.

“It gives you somewhere to start.”

“More like where not to.” Fenris retorted and he heard Varric laugh.

“That’s my point, Elf. We need you to work out where Danarius is least likely to look.”

"And I'm told no one would know that better than you." Their words caused Fenris to look up in surprise, understanding dawning.

He took a moment before answering, thinking carefully. “Nowhere in Tevinter is safe obviously. He has links with contacts in Antiva, some in Rivain, and a couple even in the Free Marches. Many in Fereldan and Orlais” He stopped again, looking at the scope of the map. “Though that is definitely beyond where I would expect you to take us.”

Isabela smiled at him distractedly, she was already looking at the map. Varric clapped his hands together.

“Oh good, this is going to be easy. If some lunatic has to be chasing you, why not make sure he’s the most connected bastard in all Thedas.” Fenris grimaced, he couldn’t argue.

“He has the connections, whether they’re loyal to him outside handing over suitable slaves for a healthy fee, I can’t say.” He glanced back down at the map. “The only place he hasn’t got a steady trade is the Anderfels. Though he’s tried, he always comes back muttering that they have no business sense and are impossible to work with. As far as I could tell, the people he meets come out with different opinions of the deals.”

“More like different opinions of Tevinter. Perhaps it’s not their lack of business sense he struggles with, but the fact they have a sense of morality.” Varric suggested. Fenris nodded but Isabela chimed in.

“I don’t know the seas on that coast. They don’t actually have all that much coast, poor things. Even then, do you have any ideas where in the Anderfels?”

“Somewhere we can travel quickly along the road. I don’t know the Anderfels at all, other than I don’t want to be caught by the storms out in the Wandering Hills.”

“Or the Hunterhorns.” Isabela pointed them out to the west. “Or the High Reaches.” Further south.

“Good point, Funalis celebrations have already been and gone. Those mountains will be getting too frozen soon for anyone to be crossing near them.” Varric added his point.

Isabela also made a considering sound. “We already had a delay when we had to rescue Varric.”

“Oh blame me all you want but I do make an excellent damsel in distress.”

“So what are you saying?” Fenris interrupted when they seemed to be letting their attentions be drawn away from the map.

“Meaning people saw the ship from the coast, I’m certain, and it’s going to be linked to you if this Danarius ever hears about it.”

“So the ship’s not safe.”

“Not for long, dropping you somewhere sooner would be safer, just so long as you have a plan of action to take after that.” Isabela wandered her hands along the map of the coast. They pondered for a while longer, taking into consideration the coming cooler season of autumn and the paths beyond the coast.

Eventually Varric had started rifling through Isabela’s cabinet until she gave in and found a land map for them to study as well, which Fenris didn’t admit to finding much more useful, now that he could see many of the roads and hazards that they might have to navigate around.

There was much backwards and forwards in their discussion, Isabela was on a clearly Rivaini ship, surely they’d recognise that she would be heading east, but travelling east it would take longer to get out of Tevinter. Hawke had been to Antiva before she came to Tenvinter, therefore she might know her way around better, but it might also make her more recogniseable. After he’d had enough of the arguments bouncing backwards and forwards Fenris stepped around Isabela, avoiding her hands as he passed, and put a finger on the map.

“You’re going to the east. I cannot ask you to divert your course any longer. I will see that Danarius doesn’t find us but I can’t keep you from your business any longer, when I have nothing to repay you for your help.”

“I’m sailing the seas, there are potentially angry people after me. This is business as usual Fenris. You don’t need to worry about that.” Isabela arched an eyebrow.

“I’m not arguing with getting off this creaking seesaw any sooner.” Varric agreed with an exaggerated groan, masterfully avoiding the poisonous look the captain levelled at him. As the writer spoke, it struck Fenris how much he himself looked forward to getting away from the confines of the boat. Watching the sun getting closer to the horizon in the afternoon left him constantly fearful over what he might do to the helpless people trapped here with him. Once he was away and only looking after himself and Hawke, he would feel much better. He had already done more damage than he ever wished to people who had been unnecessarily kind.

Of course there was no way he could agree with Varric, he was much closer to Isabela and he wasn’t brave enough to make any slight against her ship.

“The Imperium marks it’s boundary with the Hundred Pillars mountains, if we use the White Spire as a marker we’ll be able to navigate.” He determined instead.

“If you say so. Any plan sounds…better than we had so far.”

“As you said, dwarf, the plan is to survive. I will make sure of that.”

“Works as well as any.” Varric laughed and Fenris said nothing, glaring grimly at the expanse of land he had never had the opportunity to visit on the map while Hawke ruffled her feathers against his ear.

It was as he left the meeting room that Fenris realised what Isabela and Varric’s ploy had been. They hadn’t ever actually given any decisions, just various points to consider before letting Fenris come to his own conclusions. He didn’t know how to feel about their subtle manipulation, making him take the decision into his own hands, but he had made one nonetheless.

He had never considered that might be something he was capable of.

>>><<>><<>><<>><<< 

It took a further two nights on the ship before Fenris noticed the ship turning towards the land just visible to the south as he climbed to the deck in the morning. only a few hours later he stood beside the Captain as she guided the ship into a very small bay. The imposing and unmistakeable shape of the White Spire rose straight ahead of them.

He was aware that Hawke had given their new acquaintances a proper farewell and thank you at some point during the early hours of the morning. He also knew he couldn’t find the words to thank them for the risks they were taking in helping both himself and Hawke’s escape. If Varric hadn’t helped Hawke in that alley, or if Isabela hadn’t been willing to keep them on her ship even after he’d hurt one of her crew, he couldn’t have made it this far.

He was not skilled with elegant words and speeches. But Varric knew that.

“Alright, Elf. We’ve got a long way to go.” He appeared behind Fenris and patted him on the arm where he stood looking over the bulwarks, avoiding the shoulder where Hawke had taken her usual perch. Fenris nodded before he processed the words fully.

“We? Varric, I am beyond grateful for all your help but you do not need to come out of your way with us any longer.”

“This isn’t about you, elf. I told you I want off this blighted ship and after this stop Isabela’s sailing straight on to Dairsmuid. That’s another week at least to sail around Rivain and I am not playing nice about her ship for that long. Plus, all the salt air is making Bianca creaky.”

Varric muttered angrily on and Fenris couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re not much suited to the sea, then.”

“What I’m suited for is my comfy room in the Hanged Man.” He sighed, “But I needed to sort out a mess someone else dragged me into, otherwise I’d never have left Kirkwall.”

“There are unlikely to be any bars the way we need to go.”

“I know, but I figure that if I need to get back to the Free Marches, being in the company of an angry, glowing elf and an angrier Hawke is a good way to do it.” Varric looked out wistfully at the approaching dry land that clearly didn’t offer the promise of a warm beer anytime soon.

“I am not certain Hawke and I can make the best travel companions. We need to lie low and travel fast.”

“Save your breath, elf. You’re not the only one who can be stubborn as a bronto in a temper.”

Fenris said no more and Varric, clearly mulling over his own thoughts kept him company as they stared quietly ahead until Hawke lightly hopped from Fenris’ shoulder, circling them once before sweeping off across the foamy wavelets, towards the land, scouting out their journey ahead.

“How do you know she’s coming back?” Isabela’s voice merrily called from behind them and Fenris turned to her with a scowl.

“She’s not a pet.” He insisted simply, “She can do what she likes.” He repressed the part of him that panicked at the possibility of losing her, even the barest part of her he had.

“What if she falls asleep in a tree as a bird, then wakes up human and falls out of it?” She chuckled, her eyes looking over Fenris’ head to the disappearing bird in question.

“How long until we reach land?” Fenris overrode her, filing away more things in his list of concerns based on his inability to look out for her himself.

“Oh, I’m not going in. Look at it: shallow bay, big boat.” She gestured smugly at the mast above her. “You’ll be going inland on the dinghy.” As if on cue, Fenris heard the rattling of the anchor dropping into the water, holding them in place some quarter of a league from the bay. “So if you’re ready to go, now’s the time for our tearful farewells.”

“I’m not sure that will be necessary.”

“Oh come on, sweet thing. Just a hug to show how grateful you are.”

“Rivaini, I don’t think the elf wants to be on the receiving end of one of your hugs.”

“Sure he does.” She purred with a wink and Fenris shook his head.

“You can keep your hands to yourself, Captain.” He replied, raising his brow at her undiminished beam.

“Hmm, fine. How about something else then. I figured you might need a little something to help look after yourselves.” She smiled sincerely then and Fenris frowned suspiciously.

“What do you mean?” He didn’t know he could take anything else from her.

She reached to a belt she had tied around her tunic and unclipped it, revealing two daggers sheathed behind her back.

“You’ve got nothing but the clothes on your back but that won’t stop bandits. Especially if you’re heading past Antiva. You’ll need these.” She passed the belt to Fenris before he could argue and he pulled one of the weapons free. It had an elegantly carved gilt handle, the blade seemed newly polished but looking closely he could tell it had been well used.

“Isabela, this is too much. I can’t take them.”

“Look Broody-and-Gorgeous, before you refuse out of some sense of gallantry, don’t make this more than it is. These are my old knives, they were going to waste if I didn’t find something to do with them. And I’d rather see you live.”

Isabela smiled as she flicked her hand at him, dismissing his half-hearted attempt to pass it back to her. He looked down, taking in the old belt leather, the small scratches on the hilt that had not been fixed in the recent, likely hasty, resharpening of the blade. It was a gift.

“We figured you’d never take something willingly that looked like it was worth a damn. I suggested just hiding it in your bag.” Varric said from his shoulder and pointed at the other knife still in the sheath. “See if you look closely, the handles flaking on this one.”

He had been given a gift, and they had made sure he couldn’t refuse it. This was more thoughtful than he had imagined they could be.

“Now I’m not sure I should be grateful or worried that you read me as easily as Hawke.”

“Just take the knives, find your bird somehow, and get on the boat.” Isabela smiled. She moved forwards before Fenris could stop her, placing a playful kiss on his cheek. He froze in place, a reflex when anything came so far into his personal space. He knew Isabela sensed it but when she drew back she only threw a rogueish wink at him. He forced himself to lower his shoulders and with an effort gave a smile and quick nod in return.

“If you’re ever in Rivain, you and Hawke must come find me.”

“In the entire country of Rivain, we’ll find you just like that?”

“If you mention the Captain, I’m sure someone will point you in the right direction.” Varric grumbled and Isabela cheerfully shoved him by the shoulder, clearly anything but upset by her infamy.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Maybe ask about the ship.” She said with a smile.

“Make it sound like you’re not sure who’s in charge, or you’re not happy about it.” Varric chipped in. Fenris glanced between the two of them, not quite sure whether they were serious or not. He was able to avoid finding a response when he saw a flicker or movement and a familiar bird dropped from the sky above them, returning smoothly to the old leather brace Isabela had given Fenris for his shoulder, only until he managed to make or buy a better one.

“Until we meet again, Captain.” Fenris said, realising as he spoke how much his words almost seemed like a plan for the future. The idea that he might have one.

“Here’s to seeing you and Hawke together in a room, at the same time. You know, as you.” A small dinghy was being lifted over the edge of the ship by a sturdy chain and winch. Varric was already making his way over to it, clearly opting to be lowered down in the boat rather than climbing the rope ladder down to the level of the water.

Isabela held Fenris back by the arm when he began to follow the dwarf. Halting immediately, he had to think before pulling his eyes from the ground to look into Isabela’s face.

“Fenris, you need to know something. Hawke is a big girl. She chose her path herself and there’s no point you spending all your time brooding over it. You’re blaming yourself for things you couldn’t have done anything to change.” The captain had been looking at him the whole time, with her hand still on his arm, and he knew she was trying to make sure her point got across. He stayed silent and sullen but her words were already mulling around his head.

After a pause she gave a last gentle squeeze of his upper arm and let go with a sigh. “Watch yourselves out there. I don’t want to see any harm come to that fine bird you got there.”

He looked at her again out the corner of his eye and smiled slightly, “I will make sure it does not.”

And then, with little more fuss, the captain said her goodbyes and Fenris was on his way inland on a much smaller, rickety boat.

After almost a week on the ship, Fenris had his feet on solid, steady land. Varric whooped with joy as he watched the crewman Asanio push the boat from shore and begin returning to the Siren’s Call. Fenris and Varric next had to find a good place inland, sheltered from view of the coast and avoided lighting a fire before night fell in case any ships they might have on their tail saw the smoke.

The next morning saw Fenris wake with his hawk sat looking straight at him, perched on top of their shared bag of belongings. Looking around at their things, he could tell the knives had been moved and hoped that she had only been practicing. A thought flickered through his head that perhaps Hawke had known about the belt knives before he had. If she had, maybe she had something to do with the manner they were presented to him. In fact, her advice might explain a lot of the things Isabela and Varric had said and done for him over the course of their journey.

He reached into the bag where, as usual, Hawke had left his clothes and frowned when the bag opened with an unusual crackle. Reaching in, his fingers brushed against a sheet of paper. He gave a furtive glance over his shoulder to place the tell-tale snoring coming from Varric’s direction, then he pulled out the paper, glancing at it quickly.

It was a note, left for him by Hawke’s own hand and a rush of anger slammed into him.

He had never been taught to read.

Holding back his surprising rush of emotion at his uselessness, he placed the paper back into the bag after he had dressed and neatly folded Hawke’s clothes. First in his priorities, he had to decide where they were.

No longer being steered by the winds and Isabela’s ocean sense, the path ahead was chosen only by his own feet and the captain’s words came back to him as he silently stalked past Varric into the trees to check their location.

So far, he had been dwelling on what got them into this position, his guilt at drawing Hawke into his terrible mess with Danarius but by blaming himself he was giving Hawke too little credit. She had told him that she had been tempted into Danarius’ mansion when she had seen him, he was ignoring the fact she had chosen to follow. From the moment she had decided to approach him on the steps of the magisterium, knowing that he was giving her the chance to walk away, her future had been in her own hands.

Now it was in both of theirs. Entwined together as much as they were kept apart. Despite Hawke’s best intentions to save him, this was not the freedom she had hoped for and now it was his turn to free her from his own chains.

He would find a way to get them out of this. He also realised that during the night his companions had moved a little further inland. Best to set as much distance between themselves and the sea as soon as possible. That was the plan they had decided on, separately and together. Use the White Spire mountain as their guide and walk into the anonymity of Antiva and the Free Marches.

Once that was decided, he had something else to figure out. He couldn’t read her note, and he guessed she didn’t know that. Instead, he had to find some other way to let him know he was thinking of her too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](http://tinypic.com?ref=qsowt4)  
>  Hopefully this works and can help you with a little of what they were looking at and planning, since we don't see much of Northern Thedas normally  
> Thanks again for reading and special mention to larxenethefirefly for almost predicting something that appeared in this chapter


	7. Passing Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was only as she mentioned moving back to Kirkwall when she was younger, about 8 or 9 years ago that she spotted Varric perk up, frowning curiously at her and her voice trailed off.
> 
> “Amell. You’re one of the Amell kids?” Varric blurted out and Riona was caught by surprise. Years of keeping her family secrets close had left her paranoid about revealing more than she had meant to. She should have known that Varric would no doubt have heard the rumours around Kirkwall that circulated about her family. She should have been more careful.

Riona wasn’t going to be desperate to see a return note when she came back to herself the next evening. She opened her eyes on the bag of their shared belongings, calmly reached into it for her clothes and definitely did not feel her heart skip in excitement when she spotted the white paper placed on top of her things.

She pulled out the note, saw her own writing and for a moment her eyes simply skimmed back and forwards across the paper to find his reply, frowning in confusion when there was no writing. Then her eye caught the new markings on the page. It wasn’t writing but still she held it up to better make it out in the rapidly disappearing light. She could recognise an arrow, over a long wavy line, and a cross a little further along the page. The arrow made her turn the page over again, dimly wondering if that’s what it meant before looking again at the first side, when she found nothing had appeared magically.

It was stupid to feel disappointed, this was more than she had seen directly from Fenris since this whole mess began. Or at least since the mess she had caused had morphed into a full blown crisis. She stared a moment longer at the cryptic symbols, then glanced up in surprise when she heard Varric’s voice call to her from somewhere nearby.

“Hawke, you ready? Just this one had some ideas about what we could do before it got completely dark.” Riona startled as she reached for her clothes, which she had been completely distracted from putting on already, calling back to the dwarf,

“Just a moment.” She pulled her breeches and shirt on haphazardly and stepped in the direction of her friend’s voice, attaching the knife belt around her waist and finding Varric holding back a characteristically grumpy looking wolf. “I take it you didn’t have too much trouble convincing Fenris you were coming.”

“What did I tell you, piece of cake. He’s happy to have me.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” she intoned drolly and Varric chuckled appreciatively.

“Then we’d better get this curse broken as soon as possible.”

“You said Fenris had plans?” She reached down to the pile of discarded clothes on the floor and shoved them into the bag, much more haphazardly than Fenris had been with her own.

“He wants us to keep moving, says it’s not a good enough place to rest here and we should be further on. Which, might I add, would be fine, if he didn’t hare off ahead and forget that it takes me 2 steps to every one of his. Damn lanky elves with their long legs. You humans are no better. Especially when you  _ignore me as well_.” Riona only realised Varric was still talking when his gradually louder voice drew her eyes back to meet his frown. Something he had said about shelter occurred to her, and she had quickly dug into the small pocket on her belt, finding the note she had tucked away as she dressed.

Where the arrow pointed, there also seemed to be another mark, coloured in darkly. Behind that, a shape rose from the outline, a hill. Glancing up and to the south, at their path ahead, Riona quickly spotted the same outline, a knobbly hill visible and below it, a small copse of trees, soon to be swallowed in the encroaching darkness of night.

The trees may not be visible for long, but the hill would remain a dark mark on the horizon to guide them, if they set off soon. The small map, as she now recognised it’s purpose, was there to lead them to safety for the night. She grinned up at Varric, brandishing the paper triumphantly, only to see Varric staring at her with a less than impressed look on his face.

“We have to get going.”

“I was worried you were going to say that. Some people appreciate breaks you know.”

“The sooner we get going, the sooner we can take one.”

“Now is not the time for any of that optimism.” Varric spoke the last word distastefully and Riona only laughed as she adjusted the bag on her shoulder, checked the path ahead and absentmindedly rubbed the ears of the wolf now leaning against her leg.

“Come on.” She knew she would only annoy him more with her happiness but she strode ahead anyway and soon heard Varric’s heavier footfalls scurrying to keep up.

As she expected, the trees they were aiming for very soon became obscured in the evening darkness and so she looked to the craggy outline of the hill above them as a guide. When they were halfway there, and making short conversation felt Varric’s hand suddenly on her arm and she spun around for an explanation, stopping almost immediately.

He raised a finger and pointed someway to their left. Riona instinctively stayed quiet after taking in his tense stance, following his gesture for an explanation. Though the night wasn’t completely dark yet, the glow of a fire still stood out and Riona held her breath until she had placed it. The sounds of conversation floating across showed there were multiple people there, but they were far enough away that the words blurred into only a hum of meaningless sound.

In silent agreement, Varric and Riona adjusted their path so they walked directly away from the camp for a little way until they felt they were a reasonable distance away again. Based on the sounds of laughter, they had almost stumbled across quite a camp that would take a lot more to distract them from their merrymaking. The pair of them walked further in silence, reaching the trees with a sense of relief and skirting around them for an extra few hundred paces until the depth of trees between them and the camp had become quite impenetrable.

Riona’s mind wandered as they tried to find a suitable place to make camp, thinking back on the map. She was almost certain that the cross on the map had been a warning to avoid that occupied area, undoubtedly spotted by Fenris’ more perceptive elf eyes. She also wondered why he hadn’t just written that, rather than taking the risk of drawing the potentially misunderstood map. Unless he had been running out of time, perhaps it was only after he’d left Varric to change form near the time of the sunset that he had seen them. That must have been it.

They couldn’t light a fire that night, nor did they dare trying to venture too far into the woods for a hidden camp, in case either of them fell or twisted an ankle which would only slow them all down. So instead they spent a tense, uncomfortable night, too nervous to talk and straining to pick up any sounds of people approaching them, fingers drumming anxiously on the handles of their weapons.

Riona barely slept, wincing whenever Varric’s snores disturbed the unfriendly silence of the depths of the night.

>>><<>><<>><<>><<< 

She wasn’t used to feeling quite so refreshed when she came back to her senses the next evening, the glow of pink across the unfamiliar surroundings revealing that it had been a spectacle of a sunset. Another one she had missed.  

Although she didn’t really have a sense of things like time when she was in the other form, it still felt like it hadn’t been that long since the engulfing sensation of the hawk taking over that morning. She looked at the yellowing leaves on the trees around her, a different wood to the one from yesterday and she considered the shifting seasons as she never had before. The nights were cutting into the day, faster than she had ever thought to notice.

“So no trouble with the other camp this morning?” She asked as a distraction, emerging from her shelter to spot Varric already setting together a camp.

“No. That group, turns out they were a team of prize hunters looking for some ‘golden goat’.”

Riona spun around quickly. “You spoke to them?”

“Of course not. They just happened to draw a little closer to us than we would have liked. Perfect eavesdropping distance though.” Varric waved off her concern and she rolled her eyes at him before going back to her task of finding something edible.

“Winter’s coming in.” She said quietly, when she sat down next to the fire, stoking it with the pot before setting to skinning the rabbit she knew Varric must have acquired with his trusty Bianca. She heard him shift but she didn’t look up, he was just thinking. Judging her mood. He had a certain skill for that. She hadn’t yet decided if it was useful or infuriating.

“Aren’t you glad you’re on this side of the world? The elf tried would have had you wandering the mountains.” He said lightly and now she raised her eyes to him.

Riona shook her head but her mind wandered back to her sombre thoughts. “The nights are getting longer.” Varric waited, his attempt at levity clearly ignored. “And days are shorter. So while I get to be more myself, Fenris loses more of himself.”

“You realise that happens every year? He’s not blaming you for the seasons.” Varric calmly settled down on top of his pack and retrieved his kit for oiling Bianca.

“I know that but…”

“And in a few months’ time that’ll switch over and days will be longer than nights again. Will you accuse Fenris of stealing your time?”

“No, of course not.” She felt an almost visceral rejection of the idea that she would blame Fenris for that, then couldn’t help the small snort when she realised that was the exact point Varric was making.

“Look Hawke, you just need to think about it. If you blame yourself you’re never going to get through it. And you need to know the elf, broody as he is, doesn’t blame you.”

“He’s not brooding, he’s just got a lot to deal with.” It was as much a reflex to jump to his defence as anything else. Riona realised she hadn’t spoken to him at all about these problems and couldn’t know how he was dealing with it. A sinking feeling settled in her gut, as if every day he was slipping away from her and she forgot more of him. So why did he only leave her a scribbled drawing rather than actually talking to her? She thought she’d been so clever.

“You would know better than anyone. In six months’ time, you’ll get your turn to complain about shorter nights.”

Riona’s reply caught in her throat and the catch made Varric look up with consternation. She tried to nod confidently, distract him with a smooth grin but knew she had failed, even before Varric’s expression turned irritatingly patient.

“Six months. I didn’t think about being like this for six months. After that it’ll be a year. Then another year. Varric, how long are we going to be stuck like this?” She found she couldn’t look him in the eyes after she had started, instead focusing on her hands. Before staring at them for too long she had visions of them changing before her eyes, feathers sprouting from her fingertips. Beneath her skin. Itching and replacing her.

Her eyes snapped back to the dwarf.

“Only as long as it takes to figure out a way to undo it. And you will. Most mages will laugh at a little trick like this one.” Varric answered her casually, oblivious or accommodating to the slightly frantic look in her eyes.

“Ah yes, you know this, with all the experience you have of magic.”

“I might be a mage expert, how would you know?” Varric affected an offended tone and Hawke made herself follow the joke, laughing was always easier.

“I’ve heard you summarise one of your own stories into 8 words. I don’t think you have the patience of an academic type.”

“Or I’m concise.”

“Alright, expert, so we just need to find one of your extra powerful mage friends.” Riona grinned and it seemed enough to mask the dread that settled in her stomach. Either from Varric or herself she wasn’t sure.

“Exactly. Now while we wait, you have a debt to pay up.”

“I do?”

“Your life for your life, remember?”

“Not exactly. You haven’t fully explained your plan yet.” Varric looked away and reached into his pack for a water skin to fill the pot and put it on the fire to bring to a boil. Once he had sorted that, he sat back and grinned at Riona.

“I saved you so you could give me inspiration for my book. So I need some sordid details to grab my readers’ attentions.”

“I had rather hoped you’d forgotten about that.”

“No chance. My mind’s like a steel trap. So let’s talk. What makes my hero tick?”

And despite his terribly obvious attempts to take her mind off what was bothering her, Riona enjoyed talking about something else. While she added the meat to the pot and prepared some seasonings from the packs, presumably picked earlier in the day, she told Varric about her brother and sister back home. About growing up for a lot of her life in Ferelden before she moved back into her grandparent’s home in Kirkwall. She carefully skirted the reasons why her father had not been welcome in the family home.

It was only as she mentioned moving back to Kirkwall when she was younger, about 8 or 9 years ago that she spotted Varric perk up, frowning curiously at her and her voice trailed off.

“Amell.  _You’re_  one of the Amell kids?” Varric blurted out and Riona was caught by surprise. Years of keeping her family secrets close had left her paranoid about revealing more than she had meant to. She should have known that Varric would no doubt have heard the rumours around Kirkwall that circulated about her family. She should have been more careful.

“I should have expected that.” Varric continued, unperturbed. “It’s not like I have anyone to tell out here. Except the elf.” He added and she knew he was reassuring her. She could do this, he was a friend, she should trust him and he made a good point about their lack of contact with anyone else. With his laughter, Riona’s concerns seemed much easier to wave aside.

“You’re right, I just- What do you know?” She decided it was easier to have him dictate what would be safe to reveal.

Varric smirked, her mind almost as fast as his own in getting, or hiding, information. Of course, the practised way she kept her cards close to her chest told him more than she knew. “I’ll admit it’s hard to tell with all the different rumours your family’s return sent flying around. Some say it was a family feud, it’s pretty obvious your father was not who the young Lady Amell was supposed to marry. But you came back after 15 years and the new grandchildren were seen making proper appearances around town.” Varric stopped and Riona felt like he was watching for her reaction.

“That’s about the gist of it, really. My mother fell in love with a man my grandparents didn’t approve of. When they told her she had to choose, her heart won and my parents ran away together. A few years later they had three children and my mother tried to appeal to her parents again. This time she said the magic word, or grovelled to them just right, but they let her come back, with a few strict rules.”

“Strict rules are an excellent way to make happy family home life.”

“Oh yes, we have a close relationship with my grandparents, you can probably tell.”

“It’s abundantly clear. Of course, I’m not surprised they didn’t like your father, what with the Amell family being adamantly against mages.” Varric kept his tone calm, which gave Riona no warning before his statement had processed in her mind. She stared up at him sharply but managed to match her passive tone quite accurately to his own, she felt.

“What do you mean?”

“Hey, when something catches my interest, I like to get to the bottom of it.” Varric shrugged with indifference, as if he wasn’t dismissing the secret that she had lived her whole life trying to keep. “Figure out which rumours are true.”

This conversation had rapidly become a minefield beneath her feet, and she’d lost the map. Grasping at positives, the only advantage she could see was that he hadn’t mentioned her sister, the other secret mage in her family. Riona had spent her life fearing Bethany would be taken away by the corrupt Templars. First in their many homes in Ferelden, then hiding with a greater urgency caused by rumours of unspeakable cruelty within the Circle right at home in Kirkwall.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Riona began with the old intent to cover everything up, but even to her own ears her voice sounded false. She didn’t say anything, instead stirring the pot but when she couldn’t put it off any more looked up. She wasn’t sure what she expected, probably some kind of mocking sneer but instead her friend was looking at her with a kind of…pity.

“Hawke, I’m trying to help you, remember? I have  _only_  helped you.”

It was so deeply ingrained in her not to let her family down that when Riona looked up at Varric again, the dejection in her eyes must have shown. His expression fell immediately. It hurt her more than she expected to see him look as torn as she felt.

“I know. You don’t have to tell me that. You shouldn’t have to.” She assured him, attempting to smile apologetically, knowing it looked more pitiful than anything else.

“So, you’ve never told anyone your secrets?” Varric ventured. Riona shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. “And you didn’t tell me. Technically I heard it elsewhere.” He grinned, reaching around the fire to take the pan from the heat. In her focus she had neglected it and now it was bubbling over quite fiercely.

Riona smiled at the pan but managed a somewhat more honest expression this time. Standing to grab bowls, also gifted from Isabela’s ship, she returned to stand behind Varric, finding it easier to talk to his back. “I’m sorry, I know I can trust you it’s just...the only person I ever spoke to about anything like this, outside my immediate family, was Fenris and well, you know how that turned out.”

“If you’re worried I’m going to get turned into a big dog because I know your father’s robes aren’t just a peculiar fashion choice, I think that was a pretty unique situation.” Varric turned to her, taking the bowls from her hand and starting to spoon out the meal between them.

“No way you’d be a dog. Not really your thing. Maybe a dwarfish nug?” It was always easier to laugh.

“Oh, oh really? Is that what we’re doing?” Varric played along.

“Maybe a hardheaded druffalo?” As they argued over what animal best represented Varric, their conversation turned lighter, soon Hawke was laughing through tears at the time her father managed to convince a Templar that the jet of energy that had snapped the flag from the village standard had in fact been a very fast and very excited owl. She didn’t mention that the burst of spirit energy that had drawn the Templar’s attention had been created by her sister, just coming to terms with her new found magical abilities, but Varric already knew more than he needed to. And to talk about it, almost freely, was a relief she didn’t know she needed.

It was a weight off her shoulders, one she had carried around her entire life. Even though she still had her own curse to bear - quite literally - like a smothering cage that bound them all in this secrecy, yet for the moment she felt unusually carefree.

When Fenris walked back into the camp, returning from wherever he had been exploring, he nosed his way under Hawke’s arm and she contentedly stroked behind his ears while she discussed her lessons in Kirkwall on how to behave like a proper lady in public, after a childhood of pulling her own water from the well and helping her father as a farmhand at any number of holds across Ferelden.

Needless to say, Varric was less than impressed with her attempt at a proper curtsey, while Fenris only huffed in disapproval when she offered to show the results of the dancing lessons she had been subjected to for the last few years.

Eventually Varric decided to take himself to bed, complaining about the elf still not slowing up on the pace and making time for his  _much_  shorter legs. Once he’d stopped grumbling and seemed to be asleep, Riona reached for the daggers and began practicing a few shapes and exercises.  It had been almost a year since she was in Antiva but there she had met a friendly elf with little more than a talent for sidestepping questions about his past and an elegance with his daggers that she was entranced by. She tried to step through the patterns he had shown her, remembering which move corresponded to a slash to the throat, which was a blocking move and where her feet were supposed to go to step under an attacker's swing and circle around to their back. What had appeared to be a simple step to the side, block and stab had been eluding her as her arms always seemed to end up in the wrong positions.

It was a form of dance she found much more interesting to practice than the Orlesian Waltz. She sent a silent thank you to her grandparents for having insisted she study dance, though they probably had not intended that she use the light feet for quite this reason.  
  
She tried to leave another note for Fenris, and tried not to be disappointed when she had no written reply the next morning. As Varric watched her practice with the daggers after dinner he told her Fenris had been asking after them, and how she was getting on with them. She was therefore surprised and amused that the next night as she looked at her pack there was a small folded sheaf of paper lying in wait for her. Pulling it open hastily, she held her breath, only to frown in confusion as she was once again faced with rough drawings rather than a letter of any meaning.  
  
Studying the sketches closely, she made out the shape of a body, the curve of a leg and reach of an arm.  Frowning at what appeared to be something in the figure’s hand, she quickly recognised the form of one of the moves she had been trying to get right earlier. With that to piece the images together, she realised the objects were weapons, daggers.     
  
After dinner she took out the paper again, unsheathed the daggers and tried to copy the sequence of movements from Fenris’ drawing. Except his figure showed the foot turning the other way around, which at first seemed awkward but when Riona tried to follow the pictures exactly and it became a smoother movement, she found she ended up facing the right way.

She almost whooped in joy, had Varric not just laid down to sleep a few feet away. She wanted to face his wrath upon being woken about as much as she wanted to attract unwelcome attention from anyone who might be within whooping distance. Instead she limited herself to a swooping kiss on the top of Fenris’ head, as he sat watching her docilely from the other side of the fire.

Sometimes he would stay with them, sometimes the wolf found something else to draw his attention and would wander off, Riona didn’t ask about how he fed himself, though the fact he only ever took a few scraps from her meal if there were leftovers was telling enough.  Still, she always knew he’d come back. Many nights, after a day of walking, the wolf would be worn out and he would stay by the camp, snoozing or watching her silently, always at her side if she wasn’t waving knives around. She privately revelled in the fact he always came to her, even though she knew it wasn’t really him, entirely.

Most evenings, while Varric quizzed her about her time in Kirkwall, and Riona found ways to talk about her brother and sister without also giving away her secret, Fenris would curl by her side, flames sending ripples of light catching across his ghostly pelt while Riona buried her fingers in the fur.

Even though she had Varric to talk to, Riona didn’t know how to deal with the loneliness of her journey. Every day she came back to herself in a completely new part of the land, not remembering how she got there, and it was more disorienting than she liked to admit. Even with Varric to talk to, she needed more. She needed fun to alleviate the boredom and lack of control she had in her life. Something beyond telling stories that would distract her from the daily routine of waking up, making camp and having dinner, then finding ways to occupy herself in the long, dark night.

She tried to ignore this feeling of loneliness growing, but it had been a week since they left the Siren’s Call, always skirting settlements and staying in the wilderness. It was almost at the point where Riona could take it no more. Even on board the ship she had been able to find someone up and busy for her to talk to, despite with the unsociable hours she kept. Now their endless nights of dark, silence, nothingness were driving her crazy.

Not to mention the lack of actual response from Fenris. She tried a few more times to leave a note but with nothing in reply, only the occasional symbol, drawing or instruction she quickly became frustrated. One night, as she was feeling particularly uncharitable towards the cold snap that had appeared in the air since the previous night, and the impersonal map Fenris had left her showing a small cross on the far side of the hill they were camped by, Riona grabbed her bag, said a brief hello to Varric and walked away with the excuse of finding firewood. Then she found the way they must have come and retraced their path.

Using the cover of the increasing darkness, she turned and climbed a short way up the hill, peering down until she realised what the danger marked on the map actually was. She was looking down on a small farmstead, a child was returning from the sheds at the back with his own arm of firewood - showing up the few pitiful sticks she had collected on her way - while the farmer himself was just walking home from further across the main field.

Caught with the sudden whim to do  _something_  and before she could stop to think it through, Riona found herself scrambling down the hill, stepping around the farm buildings and making a beeline for the man who had just spotted her.

"Serah! Serah, what a fine evening it is." She called out, a genial smile on her face.

"It is that." The farmer looked at her oddly but she was reassured by the fact he wasn’t immediately calling the hounds on her. If he had hounds. Every farm has hounds. "A strange place to find yourself at this time." Ah, there was the suspicion.

"I'm sorry, I hope you don't think I'm trespassing but my friend and I got lost. It’s getting too dark to find anywhere safe and we hoped we could beg some shelter for the evening, a space in your barn, perhaps?” She tried her best to look innocent. She realised that was fairly easy given all she had on her was a small bag and a handful of sticks. Currently the knives were tucked behind her back but  _technically_  she wasn’t trying to hide them.

“I don’t know if that would be…”

“I don’t mean any harm serah, please. We won’t be a nuisance, and it’s getting colder these evenings to be staying outdoors with no cover.” The last part she punctuated by pulling her coat closer around herself, not entirely for effect.

“I would have to talk to my wife.” He spoke slowly but Riona sensed the shift in his voice, towards acceptance. “Where is your friend?”

“He stayed on the other side of the hill. I’ll go bring him here. Thank you serah, I don’t know what we might do otherwise.” A convincing nudge in the right direction for him, she smiled with confidence, hurrying back to the path, making a show of looking uneasy on the uneven terrain before she reached it. She had lived on farms half her life, a muddy courtyard was no obstacle.

She hurried through the darkness, grinning just with the thrill of talking to another person, specifically when she knew she probably shouldn’t have. It added a certain skip to her step that Varric noticed when she came back to their camp.

“We’re not going to be cooking anything on those twigs, Hawke. Do I want to know why you’re grinning like that?” He said, looking up as she approached.

“Pack up, we’re moving camp.” She replied, bending down to stroke Fenris, who stood up when she drew near, then picking up the small bag Varric carried and throwing it towards the dwarf’s feet.

“Is there something wrong?” Varric sounded uncertain, obviously thrown by Riona’s sudden shift in mood but he was bagging up the few things he had unpacked anyway.

“No, everything’s good. Why, it’s almost like you don’t trust me.”

“You didn’t pick any funny looking mushrooms, by any chance?” He muttered and Riona chose to ignore him. Soon enough they were heading back along the trail once more and before Varric caught up and fully realised what they were walking towards, a woman who had to be the farmer’s wife had already spotted Riona.

Her cry sounded out across the flat field and she began hurrying towards them both. Varric caught up to Riona and fixed her with a look she didn’t pay attention to.

“Hawke, are you sure you know what you’re doing?” He said in a low voice and Riona gently knocked him.

“Please, I’m not an idiot. Do these look like Tevinter spies? They’re just a poor family. Now, do you have anything to pay them?” Her voice gradually got quieter and quicker as the woman walked closer.

“You’ve got to be kidding me—hello, serah!” At the last moment his voice raised to audible volume, the woman finally too close to allow further private conversation.

“Miei cari, don’t you worry about my husband, he’s a terrible worry. Of course you will stay here. None of this nonsense about sleeping in the barn either.”

“We can’t ask you to let us in your house. Just the promise of a shelter over our heads will make a nice change.”

“Of course we have space for you in the house. I was just cooking up a broth, you’ll be frozen if you stay outside.” The farmer’s wife was conclusively pushing them both towards the small cottage and Hawke threw a small, helpless look over her shoulder at Varric. The dwarf eyed back with an expression that was much more ‘I told you so’ than she was hoping for and they found themselves steered into a small room that made up the main living area, kitchen and sleeping rooms of the house.

Hawke didn’t hold back the smile that came to her lips as she looked around. The setup of the house was so familiar, a small fire over which the promised pot of stew was giving off enticing smells, the rail just next to the hearth that was drying clothes, most likely just from that day. Even the small bucket of raw wool and carding paddles that Riona remembered learning to use at the first farm where they themselves had looked after a flock of sheep. One child, probably around 7 or 8, was being kept back from the fire by his father, who gave a curt nod to the two visitors as they walked in, presumably already aware he wasn’t winning any arguments against his wife’s kind heart.

As they ate dinner together, Riona managed to get a friendly conversation from the farmer and wife, Tomas and Lucia, asking after their harvests, how well the crops had grown over the good summer they’d enjoyed and the ideal weather for harvesting still holding out. Varric allowed her to keep the conversation on that topic, otherwise the gracious family might have had the worrying idea to ask after themselves and where they came from. Riona hadn’t thought so far ahead to have a full story planned, though she imagined Varric would be able to spin a tale if his talent was required.

Tomas went to bed first, putting their small son to sleep at the same time and Riona offered to help with cleaning dishes and fetching more wood for the fire to thank them for their kindness. As Varric took himself to the spot near the fire that Lucia had readied for them with as many blankets as she had spare, Riona figured she had everything under control. She had mentioned that they might be leaving early, to get a good headstart in the morning so the farmers woud be less suspicious when they woke to find them gone.

All she had to do was get them out of there before dawn and the farmer and wife, and Fenris, would be none the wiser to their little escapade. She took a little while as she fetched firewood to make sure the wolf was settled in the barn, and not bothering the sheep. She  _really_  hoped he wouldn’t go after their sheep, then she came back inside to lie down for a little while. Given the fact she stayed awake most nights, she figured she spent most of her days travelling asleep on Fenris’ shoulder, head tucked under her arm, or wing. So as sleep was not coming, she sat looking around the farm house in the gradually dimming light of the fire, smiling to herself as she remembered many days of her childhood spent happily with nothing more to their family name than the woollen clothes on their backs.

It was the bleating of sheep that woke her, as they milled around, slowly making more noise to welcome the approaching day. She looked in horror at the gray illumination coming in behind the thin curtains over the window and in one swift move Riona had leapt to her feet.

She leapt over Varric, hopefully waking him in the process as she made a dive for the door. She had barely made it half way to the barn across the yard before she felt the familiar blankness creeping in at the edges of her mind, the tell-tale prickling of her skin. She was just aware of the sound of the farmhouse door slamming shut and her loud curse at her own foolishness was ended in a shrill squawk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](http://tinypic.com?ref=10cs1sj)  
>  A beautiful commission of my Hawke by the wonderfully talented [onemooncircles](onemooncircles.tumblr.com)
> 
> "Miei cari" - My dears (using Italian as easy Antivan)
> 
> So a little more story on what the Hawke/Amell family is doing in this version of the tale and Riona is just a little harder to entertain. I'm so sorry Fenris and Varric for the things you might have to clean up. Sorry for the long wait, I was highly distracted by suddenly deciding to go to London Comic Con and making a costume. Thanks for your patience :)


	8. Contacts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He glared at the lettering above one of the doors, as if he stared long or hard enough, the writing might start to make sense._
> 
> _“Has the sign done something to offend you, friend?” A foreign voice came, far too close for Fenris’ liking. He ducked sharply away when he noticed the hand that was reaching towards him, and whirled to face the stranger._
> 
> _As he did he realised his hood had fallen from his face, leaving his ears exposed. His lip curled and he fought with the urge to pull it back over his face. The damage was already done. Instead fingers clawed into fists at his side._

The loud cry not far from where he slept jerked Fenris awake and he looked up quickly, still feeling the residual itch of magic rippling over his skin.

In the first moment, it seemed something was holding him down in that unfamiliar new enclosure. Something must have gone wrong in the night. After another breath he realised nothing was restraining him, it was that he was half burrowed into a pile of straw - which was apparently much more comfortable for a fully furred wolf than it was for a naked elf.

He took in the rest of his surroundings; a muddy plough, the pile of harvested hay, the light wind rattling the door of a very simple barn structure. And no sign of Hawke. He was certain that had been the familiar cry of the bird, which for just a moment had sounded like her voice.

His worries over his unfamiliar surroundings were eased again when he heard Varric's voice coming from the far end of the barn.

"Fenris? Fenris you out here somewhere?"

"I hope there is a very good explanation coming." He called out, allowing the dwarf to find him as he gently pushed aside the barn door, revealing the low mist that had begun to creep in over the past few mornings.

"Don't worry about it, Elf. Just put this on while I sort everything out." The dwarf calmly held out a worn cloak, which Fenris moodily accepted.

"Sort what out, Varric?"

"Nothing to worry about. Just a simple thank you for their hospitality."

"Why did we need their hospitality? _Whose_ hospitality?" It was no small tinge of concern in his mind as Fenris thought over all the reasons they might have needed to ask for help. None of which boded well.

"Just once, I wish you could believe I knew what I was doing. Put the cloak on so you don't traumatise the sheep and head to those trees over there. I'll be right behind you."

"Don't let the door hit you on your way out." Fenris grumbled but gestured briefly, conceding the point to Varric as he threw the cloak over his shoulders and with a quick look out the other side of the barn, darted into the far field. Before he was halfway to the trees he felt the familiar brush as the hawk landed on his shoulder.

"Why do I get the distinct feeling you had something to do with this?" He muttered while the hawk simply began to fluff a strand of hair that was lying in her way.

True enough to his word, Fenris spotted Varric leaving the farmhouse a little while later and begin to walk along the path, which he now realised was the very one he had not taken the previous afternoon. The one he had specifically warned them to avoid.

So he followed Varric from the other side of the valley until it narrowed and he was able to quickly cross from the copse of trees onto the same path.

“You were in a farm house.”

“Well done, Elf. Your eyes are almost as sharp as your personality.”

“ _Why_ were you in a farmhouse, Varric? Hawke seems unharmed, you are clearly well. What was the purpose?”

Fenris’ suspicions only grew as it was clear Varric was avoiding his eyes.

“Nothing happened. There was no harm done and you don’t need to worry about it.”

“This isn’t something you’ll brush aside and tell me it’s fine. If there was truly no reason for you to go into that house, then it was simply a pointless exercise to put us in danger.”

“Elf-”

“Who knows who they might have been when you approached them. They could tell anyone and word _will_ reach Danarius, I am certain of it.”

“Fenris-”

“I cannot accurately describe the webs of communications that Danarius has built up over a long life of making his name.”

“She’s lonely, Fenris.”

Fenris dropped his gaze and but his tongue, as quickly abashed as he was to anger. He glanced sideways at Varric, the guilt for his outburst threatening. “I-”

“I really don't believe that they’re Tevinter spies. They were just a poor farmer and wife, and you should have seen her when she was in there, just lit up, talking all kinds of gab about the country I couldn't begin to understand that she picked up with the Dog Lords. And to be honest, I couldn’t have stopped her going over to them if I tried.”

“No.” He answered quietly, “We can’t.” He fell silent again. Varric had raised a good point, he had been keeping them away from people, but that wasn’t what Hawke had been looking for. She had been travelling the world when she came into his life and not like this. She had gone from city to city, she had made contacts, friends. She’d even had Danarius wrapped around her finger, up to a point. She had her own kind of magic, probably just as dangerous as the kind he was running away from and just as incomprehensible to him. He had been trying to keep them safe but perhaps he had been doing the opposite. So far he had done what little he could to connect to her, drawing his notes to her in a way he hoped she could understand, though deep down he knew it wasn't enough. So he had tried drawing out the few fighting poses he knew, though he had never used daggers, only seen others practising.

So in approaching random strangers,he would says he had acted rashly, but perhaps he could understand why. She needed people, and he hadn't taken it into account. He had all but been ignoring her notes when she tried to talk to him because it would mean admitting his inadequacy, to her and to the necessary intermediate, the dwarf. Something that proved him a coward and another reason he wished she hadn't chosen to see whatever she saw in him.

As he mused, he heard a shout from behind. He guiltily came to a stop when he turned to see the dwarf a surprising distance away.

“Will you slow down, Elf. We haven’t even had breakfast yet.” Varric called, and Fenris winced. They were far enough apart that the dwarf’s voice echoed across the misty fields and they hadn't yet scouted out what else lay around this area. “Some of us were woken up with a swift kick to the stomach and my day hasn’t got much better since then.”

“We ...have no food.” Fenris admitted, also realising as he stopped and a chill began to make its way up his legs, that he was still wearing only a cloak wrapped around him.

“And if you’d wait, you’d find you're wrong again. I may have mentioned we had a long walk ahead of us and serah Lucia took it upon herself to load us up for a week.” He gestured to the bag over his shoulder, bulging to full capacity. Fenris turned away to hide his smirk, instead leading them on to the trees where they could shelter and, apparently, feast.

He also managed to pull out his change of clothes. While he retreated to the trees for shelter, more for the dwarf’s benefit than his own modesty, his finger went through a hole in the shirt he pulled over his head. It had caught on a branch a couple of days back and he hadn’t had time to fix it. He chuckled at the idea of Hawke finding it in her time at night, though Riona wasn't exactly the sort of person with a patience for needlework. In fact, Fenris would wager he could make a neater job of it than she could.

Varric cleared his throat and Fenris looked up from his thoughts on the way back. “You know, Lucia got it into her head she knew where we were heading. Apparently there’s a small town, just a day’s walk away.”

“Varric, we’ve already risked enough talking to those people.” He responded immediately.

“We’ve been travelling for days without seeing anyone, moving in anything but a straight line. I think we’ve lost whatever tail we might have had.”

“I will not underestimate Danarius. He will always find ways to get whatever he wants.” Fenris carefully emphasised his certainty of the statement.

“I’m not underestimating anyone. But even then, I think you can afford to take it a little easier. How long do you think you can live like this, constantly watching out for the monster on your back?”

“Relaxing and letting down our guard is what will get us killed. Or worse.” His voice darkened with a fearsome growl. If he had been talking to anyone other than the dwarf, Fenris knew they would have backed off at the tone, it had been used to his advantage on more than one occasion previously. The dwarf, unfortunately, had no such qualms.

“Fine, fine. But I will say that we need to get into some form of civilisation for some supplies. You have one shirt that’s falling apart, and daggers are clearly not your weapon of choice. Though if your way of killing people includes your usual lightshow, then you're going to need something less conspicuous.”

“If they see that, they’ll be dead before they can tell anyone.” Fenris growled.

“You're going to clear all witnesses too? Leaving a bloody trail across the country is not what I'd call incognito.”

It wasn’t the first blood Fenris would have on his hands in the name of protecting people, yet he knew the dwarf was speaking sense.

“Alright, if you insist. Perhaps we can travel towards this town, see if there’s a way to get in without being seen.”

Varric became noticeably more talkative that day, barely complaining at the pace Fenris was setting and because of their steady speed, it was some time before nightfall when they came upon on the outskirts of the small town of Otola. Fenris’ footsteps began to slow when he first caught the unmistakeable sounds and signs of people. However, as soon as the path began turning into something more well-trodden, the dwarf beside him began walking faster. Faster than he had their whole journey so far, Fenris noted sourly. Almost before he could draw him back the dwarf was walking into sight of humans on the edge of town and Fenris hissed out a warning.

“Varric, we need to make sure it's safe.”

Almost as irritated as Fenris had seen him look, Varric raised an eyebrow. “You don't learn what a town is by skulking on the outskirts. This is what I do, Elf. Just do what I do.” He glanced over Fenris, up and down. “Or don’t. Don’t say anything, might be better.”

“I need a disguise.” It was a last effort to delay Varric, even for the small amounts time it took to remove his cloak from his bag, making sure the hood was covering his pointed ears. A neckscarf he found in the bag, presumably Hawke’s, worked effectively to cover the lower part of his face and the tattoos etched across his neck and chin. Finally, spotting them buried at the bottom of the bag and muttering viciously once he realised it was necessary, Fenris pulled Hawke’s boots onto his feet. He hoped that next to the dwarf, his short, elven stature might be slightly less obvious. Without a word to Varric, he begrudgingly gave a nod to signal that he was ready to let the dwarf take the lead.

And then quickly pulled him back when, upon greeting the first person they encountered, Varric inquired where they might find an inn.

“An inn, Varric? We won't…”

“We are trying to blend in, look like non-suspicious travellers. Who want what all non-suspicious travellers want? A bed and a drink. Drinks loosen lips, I’ll get you everything you need to know.”

“It’s barely mid afternoon. Not everyone is as much of a tavern drunkard as you.”

“I’m going to pretend you just thanked me for my quick thinking and carry on looking after your ungrateful ass.”

Varric swiftly moved away and Fenris leapt to follow, completely aware of the looks they were attracting from the few people in the streets, all of them standing by small store fronts or peering out the front of their house. He kept his head low, scowl hidden under the hood as he watched Varric stroll brazenly along the cobbled road to the building they had been directed to, the local tavern that had a few rooms to rent.

The bar they walked into was one of the grimmer establishments he had seen. A dark room with a few grimy windows that managed to block a surprising amount of light from outdoors. There were heavy wooden tables scattered through the room with barrel-like chairs pulled around. He stood back while Varric approached the woman stood behind the bar, a scarf tied around her dark hair that made him think of Isabela.

Fenris had been in few taverns such as this. It was rare that Danarius would have entered somewhere so patently unclean, and on the occasions that he had needed something done which required it, Fenris was far too distinctive to be sent for those sensitive tasks. So instead, he found himself warily eyeing the two men sat at the corner table. Clearly he had misjudged the ability of some people to drink at any time of the day.

He only tuned back into the conversation when he realised Varric was haggling a price. He balked at the exchange of 2 gold pieces for their one room for the night, though Varric happily handed over the money, even having an evening meal thrown in for another silver.

The woman from the bar, ostensibly the owner, continued to chatter happily as she led them up the stairs and into their very simple room on the first floor. She kept going long enough to ask when they would want dinner and reassure them repeatedly that they were welcome to stay as long as they liked and could ask her for anything if they needed assistance.

“I was expecting the bed linens might be lined with gold.” Fenris remarked once the woman had finally closed the door behind herself, giving Fenris one last, unashamedly obvious look as she went.

“She complained I didn’t have Antivan money. Besides, that money ensures we have food and a discrete hostess when we move on.”

“Discrete until the next person with even more coin comes along. I didn’t like the way she was looking at us, or your purse.”

“You simplify people too much. She likes my purse, now if I make her like me, my job’s done for me.” Varric was entirely too confident in his abilities. He was now leaning back, throwing off his coat and digging through the offending purse. “It wouldn’t hurt if you could do something other than stand there scowling, but I don’t think your people skills are quite up to the challenge yet.”

“I don’t intend for them to be.” Fenris crossed to the window and opened it, leaning out with his arm extended until he saw the hawk swooping towards him.

“I thought you might say that.” Varric said bluntly from his corner. No sooner had Fenris coaxed the bird through the window and pushed it closed again than the dwarf stood up. “Still, there’s things to see out there. Let’s get going.”

“I hope you’re joking.” Fenris didn’t bother to look up as he gently stroked the bird on his arm.

“Not at all. We didn’t come into town to hide in a room and not talk to anyone.”

“Maybe _you_ didn’t.”

“We have things to do. I still don’t know what we’re going to get you but I saw a spinners shop. I, for one, desperately need new clothes.” Varric had moved to the door and opened it, pointedly waiting for Fenris.

Meeting the dwarf’s look with a challenge, Fenris eventually turned to reopen the window and release the hawk once more. “Only because I want clothing that actually fits this time.”

>>><<>><<>><<>><<<

“There, the red one.” Fenris pointed out a cloak that caught his eye towards the bottom of the selection. It was almost the shade of the dress that had been made to her specifications for one of Danarius’ balls, what felt like life times ago. Even looking at the material reminded him of the smile he had tried to hide at the time due to how adamant she had been on the colour, and how baffled it had left Danarius. No one was stopping him smiling about it now though.

“Oh yes, it's just your colour.”

“For _Hawke.”_

He caught Varric looking at him oddly but he adamantly didn’t let his face fall.

“You want to get her a gift?”

“I just thought she would like it.”

“Why don’t you tell her that.”

“You know exactly why. This damned cur...”  Fenris glanced at the helpful man watching them browse his clothing selection. “Our…arrangement makes it difficult.” Varric raised his eyebrows at the terrible cover. Fenris ignored it.

“You could leave her a note with it in your bag.” Fenris tensed and turned to stare at the dwarf, all his levity drained away.

“What has she told you?” But he could already tell by Varric’s startled look that it had been intended as a helpful suggestion, for once not trying to meddle. Fenris only frowned and turned to the spinner, eyes focusing somewhere around the man's knees. “I apologise. I don’t have my purse.”

“Fenris…” Varric’s voice followed him as he strode out of the shop but the dwarf didn’t immediately emerge. Trying not to think about the questions he was going to face, Fenris instead headed down a street between two buildings and onto the other side, another row of homes advertising a store front.

He glared at the lettering above one of the doors, as if he stared long or hard enough, the writing might start to make sense.

“Has the sign done something to offend you, friend?” A foreign voice came, far too close for Fenris’ liking. He had been too lost in his dark thoughts to notice the man’s approach. A foolish mistake showing he had already become too used to the solitude of the wilderness. He ducked sharply away when he noticed the hand that was reaching towards him, and whirled to face the stranger.

As he did he realised his hood had fallen from his face, leaving his ears exposed. His lip curled and he fought with the urge to pull it back over his face. The damage was already done. Instead fingers clawed into fists at his side.

“I’m not your friend.”

“Easy there. I was only having fun.” The man laughed and Fenris scowled, taking another step back. The man took a step forwards. Fenris couldn’t tell if he was totally oblivious or wilfully ignorant. Or perhaps it was a deliberate ploy. “There aren’t many elves pass through this village.”

Those that did were more likely to be noteworthy. Fenris felt his throat closing in, his breaths drew faster as he put two and two together. A spy then, or someone on alert for the odd looking elf. Why else would he approach in the first place. He should never have let Varric talk him into this, they would be found and marched straight back to the clutches of a furious Danarius.

He should have stopped it, she deserved better. He felt fear and the familiar lyrium humming under his skin. Only the sensation of eyes upon him, who knew how many witnesses even now looking out their windows, stopped him from doing something messy.

He was torn between dreadful acceptance of his fate, and the need to keep fighting. He couldn't let go now.

A hand suddenly landed swiftly but gently on the crook of his elbow and Fenris was far too close to plunging a fist directly through the dwarf’s chest before he recognised the culprit. Instead he simply jerked back and glowered with a stare that had even Varric quailing.

“Broody,” Varric spoke carefully, Fenris could recognise the signs of fear in his eyes all too well. It was what he had once taken pride in achieving, before. “What do you say we go back to our room.”

Fenris took a small breath, made a mental check to confirm that the markings on his skin were no longer agitated, then he turned to look Varric in the face again.

“That would be wise, yes.”

Offering an abrupt delivery from the situation, Varric gently pushed Fenris in the direction of the tavern. Fenris realised that so far there had been no reason for the dwarf to see exactly what his lyrium markings allowed him to do, otherwise he might not be half as tactile and confident. It was probably hard to see someone as a good friend once they’ve ripped the beating heart from another person’s body in front of you. Though he kept an eye over his shoulder as they ducked into a side street, it was an ability that had its uses. When they seemed to be alone, Varric pulled at Fenris’ arm and hissed,

“Keep it together elf, that is one thing we can’t have you doing.”

“I am out of practise. I will not lose control again.”

Varric, surprisingly, only looked saddened. “Don't make promises you can't keep. Look, we’ll get you inside. I didn’t think your nightlight would show up through clothes as well.”

Fenris’ reply was swallowed when once again the cheery voice came from behind them.

“An elf and a dwarf together? Now there is a sight this town was not prepared for.”

“Why are you following us?” Fenris demanded through gritted teeth, ignoring the look Varric gave him, clearly meaning to stand down and let him deal with it.

“Well now i’m intrigued. So defensive and here I was just making polite conversation.”

“We have no problem with that. My friend has just had a long day.” Varric spoke over Fenris’ ready intake of breath. “Tell me, what’s your poison?”

“Glad you asked.” The man replied with a satisfied smile. “This might be the closest tavern to Starkhaven they haven’t banned me from.”

“Yet.” Fenris muttered darkly but the man seemed to accept it as a point of pride and laughed, sending a grin to Fenris.

“We’ll have to see to that. Luckily I’ve spotted an excellent house just the way we’re going.” Varric reached up and clapped the man on the back, Fenris noted this pulled him closer to the dwarf and further from himself, for which he had to be thankful. Although less so for the fact he had just invited the last man he wanted sniffing around with questions to come back to the very place they were staying. Instead he bit his tongue and pulled the cloak back over his ears, wondering exactly what Varric thought he was doing.

Finally allowing the dwarf time to do his thing, Fenris slowed his step so that he would fall behind. Out of habit, he looked up and spotted the outline of a hawk’s hovering form some houses away. She was probably hunting mice, abundant among the waste in the streets, and therefore keeping herself quite entertained.

The uneasiness he was feeling was slightly quelled by the warmth as he thought about the bird, choosing to stay nearby even in the unfamiliar surroundings of a town. One of the few things he had to cling to was the fact that even in this form, there was something that kept her with him. Just as much as he trusted that she wouldn’t walk away during the night when she was entirely herself.

As misguided as it might appear to others, even to Varric and Isabela, he was certain of one thing, that he and Hawke were in this together. She wouldn't leave him behind, just as he couldn't imagine walking away from her. And that was how he knew it was unfair to keep it from Hawke why he wasn’t replying. He just had to suck it up and tell Varric, who was already kindly working as their go between for some messages.

Thinking of the dwarf led to him scowling at Varric's back, as he ambled along chatting amicably with the impudent stranger. And on his back, a satchel, out of which he saw both the green jacket Fenris had been admiring, and the red cloak. He needed to have words with that dwarf.

Drawing forwards, he tuned in again to their conversation.

“You don’t say.” Varric chuckled. “You’ll have to tell me what brings a prince of Starkhaven this far into Antiva.”

“And I’m certain there’ll be time my friend.” He drew in an exaggeratedly deep breath. “Why, I can even smell the ale and vomit stench. A mark of any good establishment.”

“Starkhaven can't be too different from Kirkwall then.” Varric agreed and Fenris tried to hold back his noise of disgust. As they entered the lit space inside the building, Fenris was impatient enough that he drew Varric's attention. After no small effort the dwarf extracted himself from the company of the other man.

“I need a word.” Fenris insisted as he turned to walk upstairs. It was a sheer effort of will not to look round and confirm Varric was definitely following so only when he was half way up the steps did he hear the rather heavier footsteps behind.

Once in their room, he turned on the dwarf, not quite sure what emotion it was he was feeling any more.

“You need to get rid of him.” He started. “And you helped me, thank you but...you can't sneak up on me like that. I could have hurt you.”

“I’m working on it.”

“And you shouldn’t have bought the clothes. I have no money to pay you back, dwarf.” The last definitely came out harsher than he would have liked, but luckily Varric only chuckled.

“Doesn't it feel better to let it out, Elf?”

He only glared before turning to open the window, the orange sun drawing his gaze. Not too long now.

“I’m dealing with Sebastian, but glowing and threatening to tear him a new one - possibly quite literally - is hardly the way to make yourself less memorable.” Fenris had the sense to look abashed, at least enough to convince Varric to move on. “And I trust you, you know that much. Just like you've put your trust in me.”

“You don’t understand. These-- markings in my skin, they do more than just glow. I am a weapon made for killing.” His gaze refused to fall on Varric, returning to his comforting stance of downturned eyes.

The pause before Varric answered had him tensing in on himself. While he had to be honest, he also feared what might happen if Varric decided to leave, losing Hawke her one trustworthy confidante.

Instead, the dwarf sounded as casual as ever. “It's a good thing I got to you when I did. Though it sounds like we need to get you fitted out with an actual weapon as soon as possible. Before you do something I can't talk you out of. And as for the cloaks: I didn't buy them for you to pay me back.”

“I cannot take it for free.”

“A gift, Elf. Sometimes people do things to cheer someone up.”

“I do not…”

“Then as gratitude for getting us out of the Maker forsaken wilderness and into civilisation for a change.”

“The clothes were much too rich for us.” Fenris didn’t have any experience and so couldn't guess how to react but he could see the exasperation mounting on the dwarf’s face.

“You couldn’t manage to make a nice gesture any harder could you? But if you insist, you know my deal with Hawke was for information? So tell me this, why did you leave the shop earlier like a whole herd of druffalo was on your tail?”

The question took Fenris by surprise and it was the hawk floating through the window to settle, ruffling feathers on the window sill, that gave him time to process a response. Varric’s terms were fair, and it gave him the perfect opportunity to explain himself, both to Varric and to Hawke.

“Hawke has been writing letters.” He started, trying to ignore two pairs of gold eyes on him at once.

“That’s good, I figured you kids must have already thought of it anyway.”

“Except, I cannot--read. I was never permitted as there was no need for it. I didn’t know how to tell you, or Hawke.”

“Oh.” The dwarf seemed stumped, his lack of words something neither of them were used to. “I hadn't considered that. That would make things difficult.”

“It does.” Fenris replied and Varric gave him a look that suggested he couldn't tell if it was a joke or not.

"Of course you realise, I _could_ help with that. I happen to know a little something about writing.”

“Perhaps...if we have time. Just, if you tell Hawke, tell her i’m sorry.”

“I will not. But i’ll say you wish you could have told her to her face.”

“Thank you Varric.”

“Now the sun’s going down, and i’ve got a chronically drunk and jolly Starkhaven prince to distract.”

“Thank you, I mean it. And try to keep your stories believable.”

“Don’t make promises you can't keep.”

>>><<>><<>><<>><<<

The next morning, Fenris didn’t ask Varric to pretend that Hawke hadn't spent much of the previous evening in the pub. Instead, he just didn't ask. They were quick to get moving, bills had been settled before they even saw their room, as they expected from any sensible tavern owner.

They were halfway through the town, not long after dawn so the streets were still mostly empty when Fenris heard a noise behind them. This time he spun in time to recognise the man, Sebastian.

“Didn't you get rid of him?” He said to Varric without bothering to keep his voice down.

“He tried, Fenris. Don’t think…” But Sebastian didn't manage to finish the sentence. Fenris pulled him by the collar of his shirt into the shadow of the nearest building - the small town Chantry - pinning him against the wall.

“How do you know my name? Did he send you?” Tightness rose in his chest and he tried to ignore it, though as his throat constricted, he knew his voice would be less menacing than he wanted.

“Sent me? What are you- I wasn't sent by anyone.” Fenris only tightened his grip against the man’s neck. “Hawke told me your name. I wanted to see her again.” Sebastian gasped.

Fenris threw a dark look at Varric, knowing it was pointless before he said anything. As if the dwarf could control Hawke when she was set on doing something.

“She isn't here.” He barely released his vice on the man’s throat. “What do you know?”

“You already remember more than I would have expected.” Varric spoke up, sheepishly. Oddly enough for someone in his position, the man still managed to let out a brief laugh.

“That's the thing about living like I do. Either I never get sober enough for the memories to get lost, or my head decided I couldn't forget everything I ever do.”

“There are advantages to living life out of the gutter, then.” Fenris muttered and Sebastian gave him a sideways look. In particular, he was looking at his white hair. Some had become dislodged in the movement as Fenris pulled Sebastian into the shadows.

“Evidently. Because I remember escorting the lady Hawke up to her room.” Fenris bristled. “You can relax, whatever my intentions your lady is quite able to take care of herself. Yet here is where my memory seems to fail me, since at the door of her room I could have sworn a dog came at me. Not like any mabari I've seen, it looked as beastly as a wolf.” Varric moved to Fenris’ side, a hand lifted in warning, reminding the elf to give the man air to breathe. Sebastian seemed surprisingly placid and didn't try to struggle away. “I wanted to check on Serah Hawke this morning, except only Serah Varric and yourself emerged from her room. And if that’s not enough and this blasted headache could give me unlikely visions, then I swear I saw a bird fly straight out of your window.”

Fenris was almost vibrating with the concentration it was taking to hold himself back, he felt the prickling across his skin like a roiling wave of the lyrium lighting with his agitation as he seriously considered ending this man right here, in the shadow of the Chantry itself. His eyes flickered several times down to his own flexing fingers while he concentrated on breathing slowly.

“Alright there, Elf. Ease up.” The command came through surprisingly sternly and Fenris obeyed before he could think about it. His arms fell and he stepped back, deferring to Varric to see what the dwarf’s plan was.

“We're going to need you to get to a point or tell us what you know because really, I didn't expect the elf to listen to me there.” Varric stepped forwards then, taking charge and oddly, creating a sense of both relief and annoyance in Fenris. Was it that Fenris actually wanted to take charge in a situation, that was never a sensation he could remember having, always acting only when told to before now. Wanting to solve things his own way was surprisingly novel. However, Sebastian was talking again and Fenris allowed that perhaps the dwarf had his own way of dealing with things. Clearing away a murder victim would likely only slow them down and lead to difficult questions.

“Then I appreciate that you stopped.” He addressed to Fenris, and turned to Varric again. “I realise there's something going on here you don't want to tell me about. But you said as much last night, that there’s a bad situation you don't know how to get out of.”

Fenris switched his icy glare then, from the human to the dwarf. _“You_ said?” And he saw Varric pale.

“Well,” Sebastian began, but Fenris raised a finger to cut him off.

“We were drunk, it didn't seem so bad at the time.”

“It wasn't…” The prince refused to be stopped. This time Varric threw him a look.

“All he heard was your names, maybe word of a curse--”

“--and mention of a ‘void-worthy’ magister.” The prince spoke out once more and Fenris’ gaze cut straight to Varric. That was a peculiar turn of phrase Fenris had only ever heard Hawke use, on more than one occasion. The dwarf looked back with a wince and Fenris managed to hold his eyes steadily.

“You told him nothing.” Varric only shrugged in response, it hadn't been a question and Fenris sighed his understanding.

“Your friend Hawke was just looking for company. And she certainly wasn't telling me everything.” Sebastian continued.

“Why do you think we should give you any more information?”

Rather than giving a smart answer immediately, the prince stopped. Fenris scoffed as he recognised the hesitation for what it was.

“Not all life is comfy staterooms and a pampered upbringing, prince.” He spoke the title with deepest contempt.

“I...you’re right. But your friend thought she could trust me.”

“Do not think you are special. She has made that mistake before.”

“Then perhaps you should be worried that I know too much.”

“You really have got a death wish if you think it's a good idea to remind him about that.” Varric drawled, only half joking.

“I want to help. Can I speak to Hawke or…” His eyes flickered up to a point above Fenris and the elf’s stomach fell. He knew what he was staring at without having to look himself. Sure enough, in a loud flutter of wings, she settled onto her usual perch of his padded shoulder. His eyes didn't leave the human’s and he saw the progression of surprise, wonderment and something deeper, the first hint of something more than the shallow exterior he flaunted so easily. “Is it a ...day and night thing?” The man’s tone had changed as he stared at the bird on Fenris’ shoulder. Fenris frowned, sharing a quick glance with Varric, where the dwarf’s quick nod told him that the best way to handle the situation was not to tear out his heart.

“Why do you want to help?”

“Because...because this is something. It's something bigger than me and well, you’ve already pointed out I need to expand my horizons a little bit.”

“This isn't what I had in mind.” Fenris narrowed his eyes with suspicion.

“And it doesn't hurt that you've taken a shine to our lady Hawke.”

“She’s a beautiful creature.” He took a quick step back as Fenris advanced threateningly. “A...and I only want what's best for her. You, both of you.”

“Don’t worry, she has that effect on people.” Varric soothed and Fenris could almost feel his own hackles relaxing.

“We cannot take you with us, a brat like yourself. I don't think you can be of any use to us.”

“I may have had an easy life, been a brat, and every name you can think to call me, but I have contacts.” Varric made a quickly cut off noise and Fenris and Sebastian both turned their eyes on him.

“What I think the dwarf meant to say was that we have contacts covered.” Fenris said with a twitch of his mouth.

“Ah, but when you have a family name and money, people don't ask questions. Starkhaven has links with every major city across the Free Marches, Nevarra and beyond.” Varric and Fenris still looked sceptical. “You would turn down more power and connections? You called me a fool but in this part of the world, politics is your best weapon.”

Fenris had to pause at this, as much as he wanted to turn down the humans offer. He was intimately familiar with the way magisters and altus played the power game to suit them and he knew what a weapon that was. While Sebastian spoke of power, Fenris understood the information, leeway and safety implicit in the offer.

“You have money?” A weak test of the man's true intentions and resources, but Fenris couldn't deny that things would be easier if he had something in his coin belt.

“As much as you need. This is what I have on me.”

“This is feeling more and more like daylight robbery. Not that we’re complaining.” Varric said cheerfully as he took the heavy looking purse the prince pulled from his belt.

“I will find you information, or something to help you. I even think I know where I might start looking for knowledge of breaking curses.” Sebastian looked uncertain for a moment, one hand rubbing the back of his neck “I just need to talk to my father first.”

Now Varric was the one to chuckle. “I know that look. Children across all Thedas share that look.” Fenris couldn't stop his confused glance and Varric added on “- and know better than to ask about it.”

“No, no it’s just…I’m the third son of the ruler of Starkhaven. My parents had the heir and the spare, and then me. So my father has plans for me and I…don’t exactly agree.”

Varric cheerily spoke,”So off to the Chantry with you son.” At the prince’s look though, the dwarf let out a low whistle. “Oh, I didn't expect _your_ parents to be quite so...traditional.”

“That’s my family. You can perhaps see why my father and I don't see eye to eye.”

“Your sad history that your parents didn't love you won't help you help us.” Fenris hissed out, considering again why they couldn't have solved this problem the quick, bloody way.

“But see, maybe it could. I wonder if this is something I can help with, maybe it was why I was here.” He glanced up, seemingly meaningfully, at the roof jutting out above them and Fenris only frowned, feeling lost while Varric grinned wryly. “I can help, I _will_ help.”

“Well, I don't know about you Elf, but it looks like we have no choice here.”

“I could think of a choice.” Fenris muttered, but the threat was less biting than before, accepting that perhaps Varric, and Hawke for her part, had this under control without the methods he knew to employ.

“We will welcome your assistance, princeling.” Varric charmed and he held out a hand for the man to take. He shook it eagerly.

“I swear, you are not going to regret this. I'll make you my mission now, and the next time you see me I will have something to show you, something that will help you. I'm certain.” All the while he kept Varric’s hand enclosed in his own, a grip of certainty and - Fenris couldn’t help but wonder - desperation.

It took another hour or so of talking until the young prince finally left them, following them a little out of town on their way while he gave them some helpful tips on the nearby towns and commodities. He also repeated his sentiment once more: next time he saw Fenris, he would have results.

Fenris had finally accepted the addition of their new accomplice and firmly quelled the offer for the man to join them on the way. After he and Varric walked quietly for a little time, it was Fenris who broke the silence, an occurrence quite out of the ordinary.

“You don't have to protect me from her mistakes, Varric. It would be better if I could rely on you for information. _Accurate_ information.”

“Information is what I do.” He began to protest and Fenris fixed him with an unamused look.

“Storytelling is not information. I want the facts, only.”

“Alright, fewer embellishments.”

“No embellishments.”

“Dry material as that makes for storytelling.” The dwarf managed to convey a strong desire to argue but the grace to hold back. Fenris knew the smile that threatened would ruin his own surly approach.

“The drier, the better.” He instructed an Varric huffed. “And…”

Varric glanced up, the softening of Fenris’ voice apparently worthy of a concerned eyebrow.

“And...I would like to take you up on your offer. To teach me to read. If it still stands?”

“Of course it still stands, Elf. And I know just the book to start on….if we make a detour through the next town.”

“...we were going that way anyway.” Fenris mutters, both eager and terrified to think that he might yet be able to read, something denied him for too long. But it was true that he had planned to head to the next town. Maybe he had been rash, and more than a little selfish in stranding them so thoroughly from all of civilisation. After all, their last encounter _could_ have gone worse.

And he owed Hawke. He owed Hawke everything and without the messages she wanted to share, and no more than a gift of a pretty cloak, he needed more to give her.

But the one thing he could think to share with her didn't come to him until later.

They walked again through the day, Fenris noting how much less the dwarf complained when he had slept a night on a proper bed. In the late afternoon Fenris’ attention was drawn upwards, the hawk circling through the air. Beyond her lay the serene stillness of a moon hanging in the blue sky.

He smiled at the still glow looking so out of place with the sun still in the sky. With this curse, he could no longer enjoy the sunrise or sunset. No matter how stunning, they always heralded pain and sorrow. He also knew that Hawke could never see them, the curse releasing its effect on her only when there was no sun at all in the sky, meaning the most she could ever see was the remnants of a bright sky fading into darkness.

He also could never see the stars, the sun so bright in the sky they were hidden from him during the day.

Unbound by the laws of night and day, however, was the passage of the moons. Fenris missed the familiar patterns of the constellations he knew and he could imagine Hawke longed just as fiercely for the sun. But amidst all this, the moons passed between night and day as they pleased. The moons they could share.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, as I said on my Tumblr I went away on holiday. On a related note, i hope i never have to write another chapter on touch screen ipad again. That was the most difficult editing session i've ever had.
> 
> Thank you all of you new and return readers and to those who leave comments. You make my day. This is for you


	9. Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her next sentence was cut off as Varric held up a hand and told her simply, “We’re working on it.”  
> “You can help?”  
> “Of course. Better than acting as your damn carrier pigeon.”  
> “Excuse you, only one of us has feathers here.”

Sebastian reappeared the next night, though Riona woke to find herself in yet another new town and she had assumed their last meeting had been a single chance of fate. The prince explained, briefly, the deal he had come to with Fenris, some strange account of many threats leading to the final decision that yes, he _would_ be allowed to lend them his assistance. Throughout the explanation, Varric sat with a gleeful grin, refusing to add any of his own comments as he simply watched the conversation go ahead.

Prince Sebastian had been an entertaining fellow the night before, perhaps magnified by Riona’s days barren of new drinking company. He had made the usual flirtatious comments that he wanted to know her better but had become quite insistent that he wanted to help his friends. Of which he had surprisingly few. Riona dimly remembered reassuring him loudly and lengthily that she was his friend, as was Varric. After swapping many rounds of ale between them, it was only fair to tell their friend a little of their story. Apparently they had shared enough that he had straightened up, a look of surprise dawning on his face more clearly than she had suspected him capable of.

This fresh evening it seemed the day had worked in all of their favours; Sebastian seemed cheered with determination and Fenris, well, Fenris had let someone in. Though Riona did gleam that her love had not been too fond of the idea. Or the man.

Their helpful new acquaintance had departed their company before the end of that night. He told them only that he needed to return to Starkhaven though the way he radiated distaste had Riona wishing him a heartfelt good luck.

Just a few days later, Varric surprised her with news she didn't know she had been waiting for.

“Fenris told me a thing today that was a little sensitive. He er… basically…Slaves don’t read, Hawke. Fenris had to tell me you’d given him messages and he thought you might think he was ignoring you. And that was unthinkable, apparently.” Varric rolled the word off his tongue.

Understanding dawned on Riona, light with relief that Fenris wasn’t angry with her. Following on the warm emotion, she realised her failure. She must have been so thoughtless, so blind not to have realised that. Of course he would never have been taught, that wasn’t his purpose to Danarius yet here she had been rubbing it in his face almost daily. The frustration she had caused Fenris for her tactlessness. Though slavery was even more abhorrent to her way of thinking now than it ever had been, it was simple logic. He hadn't replied in words to her message but had still taken the time to create something for her to see from him. Hs way of showing he was still thinking of her. She should have known.

Her next breath was meant to ask Varric to apologise for her, he held up a hand and told her simply, “We’re working on it.”

“You can help?”

“Of course. Better than acting as your damn carrier pigeon.” The dwarf scoffed cheerfully. Riona thanked him often for the messages she sometimes left him with.

“Excuse you, only one of us has feathers here.”

Only a week later, Riona received a reply to her note that left her more starry eyed than twenty something year old should readily admit. She clutched the piece of paper close to her breast and hurried to find Varric, hoping she might maintain a calm appearance.

Before she spoke, the dwarf’s face told her that attempt was pitiful, at best. His eyebrows rose and he glanced down at the parchment in her hand, a question already forming on his lips.

“You had nothing to do with this?” Riona asked instead.

“Tell me if it’s good first, then i’ll happily take the credit.”

“You said you were helping Fenris…”

“Hawke, if you’re talking about his reading, I haven't been able to get him to sit for a minute to start. Whatever you've got there, either it's not from your elf, or he was hiding a secret talent from us both.” Varric rebuffed her, apparently expecting some of the puff to go out of her with disappointment. It had the opposite effect; Riona’s grin spread unrestrained across her face.

“No, it's from him.” She didn't elaborate, only turning back to her bags to sit down with the message in her hands.

It was a drawing of herself. Faithfully capturing the flick of her short hair, down to the unruly tuft that could never lie right, even when there seemed to be no breeze to ruffle it, Riona was startled by the resemblance. It was less detailed than some portraits she had seen, perhaps not technically perfect like the painting her grandparents had insisted on her sitting for on her eighteenth nameday. Yet it was more like her than that posed piece, her memory recalling with cruel vividness the itch of the high collared dress, the stench of the flowers held just so in her arms.

His drawing, done with only a stick of charcoal and an admittedly crude skill, was the sweetest gift she could have asked for. So she tucked it carefully into the pouch wrapped around her waist, a perfect secret kept close by her as she set about helping prepare the meal.

The next she heard, they had indeed begun to look over the alphabet. Fenris must have created spare time again, for they had been moving at a slower pace and Riona didn’t fail to notice that they hovered more often near small towns and settlements. One evening, a week after the first, she woke to find another picture. This time a full portrait of a figure gracefully captured in the movement of dance, or fighting. Even in what seemed an abstract piece, Riona spotted the detail of the neckerchief on the figure, very similar to the one she had taken to wearing. And the hair on the figure was cut short.

This picture joined the first in her belt pouch.

The next followed soon after, another simple yet honestly captured image of her face. Beginning to feel unfairly spoilt, Riona had decided on something she could do in return. Not a gift as his had been, but she was compelled to do it for him nonetheless. At the bottom of the page she carefully wrote out her own name - _Riona Hawke._ As neat as she could make it in large script. In the morning she made sure to roll that sheet up and place it on the top of his clothes for him to find, just as he did for her.

The following evening, the same picture greeted her. Smoothing out the page, a smile touched Riona’s lips. Just below her own writing, Fenris had copied out the words. It was clearly written with the painstaking neatness of someone learning their letters for the first time, with the uncertain grip of a pen, but it was more than that. He had understood her meaning and somehow that felt like more of a breakthrough than if he had just replied to her letter in the first place.

This pattern continued over the weeks. The next picture was a different subject, much less carefully rendered but very recognisable so neatly next to it she wrote out _Varric Tethras_. Then it was _Isabela_ , and on realising she didn't know the woman’s family name, Riona drew a much smaller scribble and next to that wrote, _The Siren’s Song_. These words were once again carefully copied out. She hoped Fenris recognised her attempt at drawing a ship.

In the meantime, Riona found herself waking regularly either in the relative comfort of an inn, or in the vicinity of a farm or people, where she could at least talk, and possibly drink. She was always careful of what she said and just how interesting she made herself sound. It was a careful balance of creating a story she could talk about, to feed easy conversation for an evening, while not giving away too many real details which could get them in trouble.

Riona enjoyed telling stories. It has always been second nature to her to draw people's attention and keep them engaged with an often scandalous and exaggerated play of her daily escapades. On these tavern evenings however, Riona learnt something she hadn’t yet had the chance to fully appreciate.

Varric was a writer.

It was Varric who stole the crowds’ attention and Riona found herself quite happy to sit back and let him take it, only chipping in with occasional details if she felt like embellishing. However, in Varric she saw how a true wordsmith made his craft. The dwarf expertly used nothing more than words to reduce the atmosphere of a tavern to a tense silence, waiting on his every word. Even the clunk of tankards on a heavy wooden table seemed muted at the most important parts of his tale.

He didn’t seem to need any theatrics. His tales became worlds of their own that Riona found herself eager to get carried away in, a fact that became quite jarring the time she times she realised it was her own story, when he was already well into the flow. Or a loosely based version of her story. It was the third time he told it, with yet another variation, that she figured this was his version of making an early draft. He told of a heroine constantly on the move throughout The Free Marches. A rogue...warrior, no, mage determined on the one task of keeping her family safe while avoiding the cruel Templars. It was a harrowing tale of near misses, each one closer than the last time he told it and very few of which Riona recognised.

It was also an educational experience for Riona. She knew that they were now somewhere in the north of Antiva, closer to the east than west border. She had only ever faced the oppression of mages in Fereldan and when she had spent a few months in Antiva before Tevinter, the subject of mages, for possibly the first time in her life, had not been her top priority. What Varric’s tales really helped her see was quite how much attitudes differed here.

She hadn’t expected that the crowd would take ‘her’ side quite so readily, barely hiding scowls at the mention of overzealous templars. Of course rumour had suggested the Chantry and Circle held less sway in the north, but seeing that evidence in these parts of Antiva was a whole new experience.

>>><<>><<>><<>><<< 

The weeks turned to months and as the midsummer nights grew shorter, giving Riona less time as herself, she pointedly ignored Varric. He insisted on harking back to another conversation and asked her whether she blamed Fenris for her lack of human hours. And still they were no closer to finding a solution, they hadn’t even heard a peep out of Sebastian. Well, that wasn’t unexpected from a drunkard they picked up in a pub.

One autumn day she came back to herself slightly further above the ground than usual, falling a couple of metres onto a rough path and scrambling to get her wits about her. She was only aware of a strange flash of light and the presence of other people ahead of her before she rolled into the thornier than expected bushes to her side.

As poorly timed as it was, this was a situation she had been expecting since they first fled from Tevinter. When she’d pictured being ambushed by magisters, however, she had rather expected to be wearing clothes, as well as actually having Isabela’s knives on her. Those were her priorities now, and probably in that order. She was already trying to estimate how many people were out there, whether Fenris and Varric were alright and where their bags might have been dropped.

Then she heard a savage snarl from the middle of the fray and her focus was drawn to the fight. For one startling moment, in the heat of an attack, she had forgotten that it wouldn't be the elf she loved out there, but a ghostly beast. If he was snarling, he was still fighting. She glanced out onto the path. Three enemies faced Fenris, then one of them fell to his knees, a look of shock on his face and an arrow suddenly protruding from his throat. Two enemies faced Fenris.

She had no time to act before the number dropped with the twang of a rapidly reloaded bowstring and the slash of claws. Her partners seemed to have it in hand. And paw. Under control. Instead her attention fell to the bags just between them on the path, obviously hastily dropped to meet their attackers.

As one of the fallen men's knives clattered to the ground, Riona began to focus on more than the battle. Had Fenris managed to arm himself? How long had they been under attack before the sun set? Had either of them been hurt while she was uselessly flapping about above their heads?

The stream of questions running through her head came to a halt when a low burst of laughter came out from behind the bush she was hidden in.

“Need some help there?” Varric snickered, at the same time as their bag of clothes dropped next to her head.

“They seemed a little easier to defeat than I would have expected of mages.”

“They were just a gang of common bandits. Probably had less coin between them than we did. Nothing as exciting as Tevinter mages come to get us.”

“That’s the kind of excitement I'm okay doing without. At least for a little while longer. Although I was considering jumping in as a distraction.” Hawke suggested glibly, pulling the shirt and breeches out of the bag. With no small effort she worked them on while remaining under cover in the foliage.

“That I would have paid to see.” Varric was laughing but as the wolf’s head appeared to sniff at her sitting in the shrubbery, another thought came to her that stopped her finding the situation so funny.

“They saw us change. As little as they probably deserved to die, did any of them get away?”

“They didn’t, and you saw to that.”

“I...did?” Hawke managed to stand up and face Varric with a confused tilt of her eyebrow.

“You did. Let me say, I don't want to get on the wrong side of those claws of yours. Or your elf. Definitely not the elf.” Varric gave a sideways glance to the wolf now stood at his side.

“So I stopped someone getting away? No one else who saw got away to tell?”

“Not that I saw. Now, let’s get back to your elf.” For the first time, Hawke noticed the rough edge to Varric’s voice, a forced calmness. She immediately looked down at Fenris again, casting an eye over his fur to look for obvious wounds. She looked back up when the dwarf cleared his throat, his voice coming out in a strained higher pitch. “You didn’t mention that was his...trick.”

It took a second for Hawke to put together the strangeness of Varric with the fact their daggers had still been in the pack when Riona opened it. Oh.

“You haven't seen him fight before?”

“Haven't seen him reach into a man's chest and remove his heart with his bare fist? No, I would probably have mentioned that.” His voice was still strangely pitched and Hawke didn’t quite know how to hide the completely inappropriate grin that was threatening to reach her face. She settled with bending down to pick up their pack and stepping back onto the path.

“He was a magister’s bodyguard. He had to have something that made him appear scary and dangerous.”

“I thought that’s what the glowing was all about!”

“No, that's just a side effect of the lyrium in his skin. His main weapon is his...fist thing.”

“Andraste’s tits, I hate Vints.” Varric finally said with a shudder. Hawke chuckled, resting a hand on Fenris’ head calmly as she started them walking.

“Come on, we need to find somewhere to stop.”

“We definitely need to get him some kind of a proper weapon. Something that stops him having to do that.” Varric muttered to himself as if she hadn't spoken.

“Do you know if there was supposed to be a town up ahead, before you were stopped?”

“And here I was thinking I'd thought of and written everything. I’ve never written something that crazy.”

“I'll take that as a maybe.” Hawke left him to mutter, following the sheltered path while Varric continued occasionally making similar comments to himself.

Sure enough, not two days later, a sword had appeared in their arsenal. She didn't know what had led them to this decision, or whether she would have chosen a longsword, were she picking it for Fenris, yet somehow, looking at what she might have thought to be an excessively large sword, she smiled. He must have chosen it. Maybe he had remembered something of his past, perhaps he'd been a swordsman before his memories were stolen from him but he had felt it was right and she allowed herself to be proud. One more step to separate himself from what Danarius had made of him.

It seemed now that Fenris was on a specific mission because more pieces appeared. He acquired a scabbard to hold the sword on his back. One evening she woke up in the same town two nights running, a rare occurrence. The second day it turned out they were ordering a custom fitted piece which, when it arrived another 4 days later, turned out to be a leather set of armour, for chest and arms, as well as an extra piece for one shoulder. Having packed Fenris’s clothes away every day, Riona had seen the build up of talon marks on the old perch Isabela had given them.

She examined the pieces in their inn room, frowning slightly as the leather arm bracers made her think of the spiky gauntlets he had often been made to wear by Danarius. That frown faded when she spotted the small, customised detail sitting proudly at the point of the bracers. A simple pattern imprinted into the leather, the unmistakeable outline of a hawk poised to strike.

Sometimes it was almost as if they were alright as their days kept ticking along with a simple routine. But any time she stopped to think about Fenris, his voice, his hands on her in forbidden corners of the mansion, the softness his voice held only for her, it was like losing him all over again. The same wrenching pain she had felt when she realised it was all going wrong and she lost the secret joy of him she’d managed to have. If only she’d left it alone, would they be better off left as they had been in Danarius’ mansion.

The sickening vision of the magister holding out his ring to her swam in her mind’s eye, expectantly, his arrogance to assume she couldn’t possibly say no. They had been left with no choice but to leave. Nothing would have been more repulsive than the possibility that she could have stayed. Even for Fenris, she couldn’t have stomached that, and she knew, she thought, he wouldn’t have wanted her too.

It was the loneliness of not being able to see nor speak to him that really gnawed at her and fear began to creep into her thoughts. It felt like she was forgetting his voice. She had believed she knew what Fenris was thinking most of the time, granted he wasn’t particularly vocal with his thoughts, but now she wasn’t so sure. It was not possible to continually have Varric pass messages and ask opinions, ferreting out Fenris’ thoughts, simply because it put both of them in a position they wouldn’t appreciate. Come to think of it, Hawke had never even seen Fenris and Varric together, she didn’t know how well they got on, save for the fact Varric always seemed to have a cheerful story about her ‘broody other half’ and that so far, Fenris hadn’t got rid of him. So instead she had to guess what Fenris’ next move would be. She just had to trust her judgement.

>>><<>><<>><<>><<< 

One seemingly average evening Riona and Varric took themselves into a bar, after Riona had found an appropriate forest to lose Fenris in, rather than keeping him cooped inside an inn room for the evening. After a couple of drinks, Varric had drawn a couple of men from the next table into the latest tale he’d decided to work on, some story of adventure and mayhem and possibly romance, depending on how receptive he found the audience. She had learnt some of how he worked these things now.

Riona was only half listening and instead found the exploits of an overworked barmaid entertaining, as the poor woman wrestled to prop up a sodden heap of a man, repeatedly sliding from his seat. Clearly his loud snoring would be unacceptable from the floor, as opposed to vibrating against the table. The drunkard had collapsed a further three times before the maid finally gave up and Riona was silently appraising both of their determinations, when she tuned back to the tale that had predictably drawn more listeners as the storyteller’s voice grew subtly louder.

“After tracking him down, backed into a corner with nowhere to go, the wicked witch grinned a wicked grin. She raised her hands in a flourish, gestured at the poor, doomed man and said,” Varric used his ‘evil character’ voice, “‘I’ve got you now. Things are going to get ruff, so you’re going to want to paws and get used to it. It’s the doghouse for you!’

“Before the man could think of an escape, there was a green flash of magic and in his place there stood a great big wolf and he knew he would never make it home again. From that day on he had to wander the wilds on four paws. But he swore his revenge on the witch that had given him this terrible fate.”

Riona barely noticed the reaction of the crowd, she didn’t even realise that she had stood up until she was halfway towards Varric. It felt like her stomach had dropped to the floor as soundly as the hapless man from his stool.

Before she reached the dwarf, the crowd had all started chattering and pressing closer to him. The last thing she wanted was to make a scene. Her blood ran cold, and her skin heated up like a furnace. She decided she needed to get out to fresh air and abruptly changed direction. People were pushed carelessly out aside as she fought for the door. Breaths came quickly as her mind ground to a halt on one point alone.

Varric was leading Danarius right to them.

What else was he doing spreading their story like this. She already knew people would pass the story on, she’d heard versions of her tale in taverns before they even got their room key. This was a beacon designed to draw any spies of Danarius straight to their location.

She heard a couple of people trickle out into the night behind her, talking merrily and stumbling slightly on the cobbles of the road. As they walked away, Riona heard the distant, mournful sound of a wolf howling. Dread clenched her throat as the men down the road began to chuckle.

“There he is! Out hunting for the witch!” One gleefully yowled and they laughed louder.

“Good luck to him!” The other shouted and Riona could hear them walk through town, making pitiful echoes of the wolf’s cry.

She turned in the other direction and began walking, the storm of her mind driving her feet forwards so she didn’t hear her name the first few times. By the time it registered, she didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to even turn to see his face. Unfortunately a hand finally managed to clamp onto her elbow and she was yanked to a halt.

“Hawke, will you stop? Dwarven legs, remember?”

She took a deep breath before turning her head, jaw locked and eyes blazing fury at the dwarf.

“Okay, okay! You don’t approve. But let me talk first.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I think you’ve done enough talking, don’t you? I’ve been an idiot, again. Leave us alone and go back to tell your Tevinter buddies directly. That would have saved us all a lot of time.”

“Hawke, listen to yourself. I’m not on their side! I’ve always been with you.”

“I’ve been wrong about people before. Many times. I just thought I had a friend in you.” She felt herself starting to tremble but the Antivan winds were too warm to be the cause. She hoped Varric wouldn’t see it.

“I’m helping you, Hawke. Think. You’ve heard what people come up with when they tell your story towns ahead of us. Word travels but if I know anything, it never travels _well_.”

Riona stared at him, thinking more about where Fenris was, how she could get him to her and also gather their things. Where could they move next, somewhere that was far away. It was Varric reaching out again and touching her arm that broke her train of thought. She wasn’t sure when he had let go.

“You remember? There was someone who swore that young Sparrow was Orlesian. Someone else who said the story ended when she married the King of Fereldan. Another swore he was related to her! You see what I’m getting at?”

Riona looked at him, but it seemed like the buzzing fog in her mind was stopping thoughts from making their way through. “I wish I could. But don’t _you_ see that you just sent out a direct line to where we are? Any word of someone turning into a wolf, you don’t think Danarius will be listening out for exactly that?”

“What do you really think he’s told his spies? Because I doubt it’s a tale about how he used blood magic to turn a foreigner’s daughter into an animal. No, he has his image. And so do I. I know what I’m doing.”

“You’ve told me that before. We still ended up on a rocky shore with no money and no plan other than hide.”

“And we’ve made it this far!” Varric entreated. It was true. They had scurried between markets and towns of Antiva, even crossing over to Rivain once or twice when they were near the border, although the reaction of some ‘seers’ when Riona had drawn close had been enough for them to choose to avoid the somewhat _too_ mage-friendly country.

Riona wasn’t quite ready to admit she was less angry at Varric. Whether she believed him or not, there was too much energy charged up in her and simply walking back to the inn was out of the question. It wasn’t Varric she wanted to be talking to. She wanted Fenris.

“I’m going to…go for a walk.” She finally said, biting her lip and looking Varric in the eye.

“Hawke.” Varric said and she paused. “I’m sorry, I should have explained my plan to you first.”

“Yes. But I probably shouldn’t have called you a traitorous nug-humping scumweed.” She looked back and smiled apologetically.

“A… you didn’t.”

“Oh. That must have been before you got here.”

“Okay. I’m remembering that one. Just…you’ll come back to the inn?” He paused but she didn’t reply. “Well, don’t stay out too long and catch a cold.”

“Even the magical Rinoa Sparrow couldn’t manage that on this warm, Antivan evening.”

“Alright. Tell Fenris I said hi. And that I saved your asses.” He narrowed his eyes but threw her a wink.

“We’ll see.”

When Varric was the one to turn and walk away, Riona sighed. That had been new. She just wanted to head into the forest and breathe, clear her head out and reassure herself that Fenris was fine. That in the past hour Danarius hadn’t tracked him down based on new information about their position.

She would have to find some way to apologise to Varric. She had heard his opinions on Tevinter in general, and he had been entirely too loquacious on the topic for Riona to have jumped to conclusions about his loyalties.

Wandering vaguely into the woods alone at night, no matter how warm the evening, was not the best thought out idea and more than once Riona fell forwards over rough ground or found her clothes tugged by stray branches. The thin cloak, hung loosely over her shoulders, had given a distinct ripping sound a couple of branches back and she groaned. It had been a present.

Finally though, she found Fenris. Technically it was more a case of him finding her, but she figured he wouldn’t tell if she didn’t. She sat against a tree and the wolf put his head against her shoulder, just at the right position for her to throw her arms around his neck, burying her nose into his soft fur.

“I don’t know if you’d have any idea what to do. I just want to hear you again.” She held him there for some time before he shifted a little. She dropped her hands, the real Fenris didn’t particularly like being squeezed either, she had found. Instead he lay down with his head on her lap and his green eyes blinking up at her.

“So, I’m an idiot and I need to apologise to Varric. You’d never believe I’ve been told off by my family for being _too_ trusting before, would you?” She stroked his ear until it flicked. “Maybe you wouldn’t believe anything. Fenris might.”

The wolf licked his lips but didn’t otherwise react.

“Right. I don’t even know who I’m talking to. So I’ll tell you something I’d never tell Varric to pass along. Because I know he wouldn’t in case you listened. But I miss sleeping outdoors. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a big fan of proper beds. But the nights when we stay outside, that’s when I get to sit with you.”

Green eyes steadily held her own. Surely a normal dog might have just fallen asleep by now. She began to fiddle with the edge of her cloak, she could now see it was ripped straight through.

“Here’s the plan. Varric thinks _his_ plan will somehow hide us but I see definite flaws. It’s always going to trace back to here isn’t it? Meaning our next move has to be get away from here. We’ve already been here too long. You know I swear I recognised someone in the street the other night.”

Her anxious fingers had picked while she talked and managed to tear a strip further up the cloak.

“We need to leave. And the weather’s going to turn bad soon and we won’t want to move because it’ll be cold everywhere else but here. You know, you’re going to hate the weather once I get you home to Kirkwall. Not like these northern temperatures.”

The moon, which had been high in the sky when she woke that evening was setting and the only light came from the smaller, second moon. Riona looked around her, listening to the wind in the trees and muffled in the distance, the few voices still out on the streets of whichever town they were currently in.

“I’d better get back. Tomorrow though, we start moving.” She gently lifted Fenris’ head from her and made to move back towards the town. Immediately Fenris’ head was at her side and he padded along, silently and faithfully.

“No, Fenris.” The wolf tilted his head, one white ear flicked uncertainly. “Not tonight, I’m not sure how they would react to a wolf in the middle of town tonight.”

She walked on again and after a few moments heard the wolf’s footsteps continue behind her. If she stopped to look around at him however, he would stop and look back innocently. It was hard not to wonder who was in there sometimes. With a smile she turned back and knelt in front of him again. The torn ribbon of her cloak fell away with one more tug and she reached out, carefully tying it around his neck, knowing that it would be a much wider loop on an elf than the wolf, come morning.

“Now I’m still with you. Just stay out here.” She stroked his ear one final time and turned away. Thankfully the wolf was even more wary of settlements than the elf and he melted back into the darkness before the dim light of town reached them.

However much she expected otherwise, they made it out of town the next day and in the following week had made a good distance travelling west across Antiva. There had likely been editing of some parts of the story Varric told Fenris, but whatever he had said, Fenris was now keeping their pace steady and, from what she could tell, their route was anything but straight. That they were working together on this made her breathe easier, even before they had left Antiva. Putting his clothes away one evening, she spotted the discarded arm bracer, marked with its hawk pattern. Tied around the wrist was her red ribbon.

Their argument affected her relationship with Varric. While they talked easily and still took to bars, she felt like the dwarf was holding back in his story telling. This feeling wasn’t helped by the glances he gave her every now and again, as if he was checking his tale was passing her test. Worst of all, she was torn with relief he was being more wary, and terrible guilt that she was the reason for him being so wary. As if he hadn’t been under threat for them already. It wasn’t her nature to be distrustful and it was inexplicably tiring trying to keep it up.

It was with mixed sadness that Varric told her he would have to leave them. According to his reports, he had never been in Tevinter which, he was quick to point out, helped their cover. How could their stories be put together by chance? Meanwhile there was business and contacts in Kirkwall he couldn’t neglect any longer, as much as he wanted to.

“I’ll keep in touch. If I knew how to find you.” Varric promised ambiguously.

“Just ask for the ones looking suspicious and the inn rooms occasionally letting out the odd howl. That should narrow it down.”

“Keep doing what you’re doing, you two. You’ll be grand.” At this point they were at the southern end of Antiva, into the mountains that housed Starkhaven. Riona half considered dropping in on their friendly prince, but it seemed like two commoners wouldn’t easily be able to walk into a palace. Not without Varric’s enviable bluffing tactics.

“The road won’t be the same without you.” Riona was quite sincere and Varric shrugged.

“You know, I didn’t think I’d be making friends when I set off on this trip. The opposite, actually. But I think we made it work. You told me your story…”

“…and I let you warp it out of all semblance of believability.”

“But I made you look damn good. Just wait ‘til I work out a title. Your triumphant return to Kirkwall will be met with hordes of fans.”

“Hordes that don’t recognise my name, didn’t you say?”

“I don’t know. I just can’t imagine anyone other than Hawke being my hero protagonist.”

“Aww you’re making me blush, Varric.”

“Keep it down, Bianca will get jealous.”

“In that case, I’ll leave you with a handshake and no one will get the wrong idea.”

“I’ll see you again. Hopefully under better circumstances.” Varric grew somber and Riona inwardly sighed. They had avoided the awkwardness between them for this long. She had been hoping it wouldn’t come up. 

“I hope so too.” She smiled at him, and as promised, gave him a firm handshake. It felt alien enough to her that she quickly laughed and the tension broke slightly. There was still something between them. So she reached down and hugged him, as awkward a manoeuvre as that was with someone whose face was very nearly breast height and Varric laughed back.

When they finally parted, and she had waved him off with a smile, her thoughts grew dark. The word had been spread and Riona felt like only time could tell whether the damage that had caused was too much for she and Fenris to keep ahead of.

Their path turned to the west. Through Varric, she and Fenris had agreed on a course towards the Anderfels. They had been a year in Antiva and a change was a good plan anyway. Not just because of the potential trail they had left in the eastern lands. Briefly touching the hills of Starkhaven, Riona had a tedious exchange with Fenris, though the rough letters Varric had managed to show him, in which they had thoroughly ruled out going to the city to see if it as possible to meet Sebastian. It wasn’t that she really expected him to be helping them, but Riona imagined she would have felt more stable if she’d known he was keeping his word and trying.

Their chosen route also meant they would have to cross the desert plains south of Tevinter, taking the Imperial Highway for part of the way as it was built on the safest part of the shifting sands. It was also the most heavily walked route, with people coming in and out of the Imperium, a concept Riona and certainly Fenris could not be comfortable with.

Still, it was their plan and she had to stick with it. The desert was hot, even during the early months of the year, it was uncomfortable. Since she was awake most of the night and it had to be easier to move then, Riona often kept walking rather than setting up camp. The wolf would sometimes rest and lollop along after her some time later. She knew, or hoped, that Fenris must be taking a rest during the midday sun when he found shelter. Her hopes were at least thinly supported by the fact the wolf, as far as she could tell, was not overexerting itself too much.

Their cross country venture was, all in all, uneventful. The one time she had to stop some merchants for a replenishing of their supplies, she had trailed them for a further two days, watching to see what they did and whether they displayed any definite signs of evil sketchiness. However, they continued on their southbound path, seemingly oblivious to the wolf and girl, elf and bird keeping pace behind them. After that, they managed to break off the highway, scout to the south of Nevarra – neither of them relished the idea of dealing with their unknown culture - and reached the equally unexplored land of the mountain people.

And just like that, they had to start their waiting game all over again.

This time, Riona found herself slightly less wrong footed. While she had enjoyed the bars of Antiva, there had always been the alien atmosphere, the people she suspected were mages out openly practising magic. They didn’t make her uneasy, but they never let her feel completely at home.

On reaching the Anderfels, Fenris stopped them some distance away from any civilisation. Riona was slightly nervous about his intentions to just head into the white peaked mountains in the distance and live forever more as some kind of hermit pair of the wastes. Which was a possibility she refuted with a strongly worded letter, before correcting their course towards a valley that appeared to have some kind of settlement.

Once she approached, she began to smile fondly. Too many times, she had made an approach like this with her family, looking out onto a new mysterious smallholding that contained the entire lives and livelihoods of a small few families. Her father had led them to these places and told her that it was easier to talk to these people, because they would rarely, if ever, leave the valley their house was in, so they were unlikely to spread any news.

Therefore it was exactly the kind of place she was looking for.

And after bidding the wolf stay somewhere near the top of the tor, she headed into the valley, fervently praying they had some common language between them.

>>><<>><<>><<>><<< 

Life was not easy in the west. Riona knew how to work on a farm, but a labourer who only gets up after dark will not be tolerated, meaning they always had to keep moving on. Fenris was not used to farm work, though she assumed he picked up some skills quickly enough, given she often overheard people talk about him while she packed up to leave.

Life was moving, one hamlet to the next, another job, another face, another lie about why she was arriving late and why she had to take the nightshift. Always trying to spin out a tale that made sense in her head why she travelled with someone they would never see her talk to. Nothing sounded right. So they moved on.

Sometimes the easiest way to last any time in one place was for Riona to hide and Fenris to take the work. For almost a month and a half at one time she hid every evening in the hay shed of a certain farm, getting acquainted with the milk cattle as they came in for the night and hoping she wouldn’t be found.

That was the worst part. She knew she could be helpful. She knew Fenris would rather not speak to people while she needed someone and yet it was her who cowered away when someone visited the shed for a forgotten tool.

She missed Fenris. And Varric. And she felt more at home in these parts than she honestly had at any point since she had left Kirkwall. Just the thought of her family at home filled her with a longing homesickness, now mixed with the dangerous feelings of guilt. It was almost 4 years since she had left her home in Kirkwall. She didn’t want to imagine what her family thought had happened to her, but it was in their best interests not to have word sent to them. Riona had been foolish enough to give her family’s real name to Danarius after all.

But time passed, as it has a horrible habit of doing and she didn’t speak to them. Their next lucky break came in the form of a farm in a sheltered valley, not far from a small village on a crossroad. Therefore Fenris wasn’t too out of place when he arrived looking for a job. He was taken on and Riona, no longer content to hide in hay lofts, appeared in the evening, claiming to have just taken a position on a neighbouring hold. The small family didn’t ask questions.

That was where Hawke spent a good month of evenings talking happily, delighted by the two young children who lived there. It was a reminder of the first family she had dared talk to, in a similar farm on the road from Arlathan forest. Where Riona was glad that the parents asked no questions, she equally relished the number fired at her by the children. In their innocence, she could give them whatever information they sought after. In truth, they reminded her of Carver and Bethany, only when they were much cuter and it was easier to confuse and fascinate them with her words.

“Mistress Riona, you won’t believe it!” They called out one day, running across the field to meet her as she made her way over, ostensibly from her daytime employment at the other farm. “We only saw it quickly but you must guess what we just saw!”

Their enthusiasm was captivating and she grinned down as Gregor jumped up at her shoulder, yanking her down vigorously.

“Oh I couldn’t guess. Was it an animal?”

“Yes! Guess!” Pia encouraged.

“Was it…a hawk?” She smiled. She had long ago been told by Varric that there was no stopping her other form from keeping close to Fenris. She knew they had seen her before.

“No, much better. It was bigger.” Gregor wasn’t personally insulting her, she knew.

“Furrier.” Pia prompted further and Riona put on her thoughtful face.

“A halla?”

“Vicious-er!” Gregor jumped up again like a troublesome pup, excited about wild beasts as only children can be. It was at this point Riona felt an unpleasant shiver through her nerves. The sun had just set, there was still light on the fields and depending on where Fenris had been, perhaps he hadn’t got away fast enough.

“A wolf!” Gregor lost patience, causing Riona to feel the blood drain from her face.

“Are you certain?”

“White as the mountain peaks, and just at the end of the barn.” Pia hummed wistfully.

“If that’s so, we have to get you inside.” Riona ushered and thankfully, with their minds set on exaggerating every detail of their sighting with flourishes that would have made Varric proud, she was able to hustle them back to the farmhouse.

What Riona didn’t expect was the reaction of the children’s parents when they inevitably repeated the whole embellished tale.

“You saw a wolf here?” Their mother gave a dark look to her husband. “So far from the mountains.” She added in a hushed tone. Riona’s interest was piqued, despite her fears, which did not go unnoticed.

“It seems Mistress Riona hears the same tales in Fereldan that we know.” The father looked at her in a way that made her wonder exactly how pale she looked. “The white wolf is a bad spirit, he seeks to wreak havoc and vengeance. It heralds bad luck.”

The father told his children to beware the white wolf, there had been word of it spread all across the land, omens and sightings and all of them led to ill fortune. There was rumour of a Dalish curse, called down upon Tevinter for stealing their lands.

There was enough to the tale that Riona couldn’t fail to recognise where it had come from. A white wolf, vengeance, a transformation. But they were hundreds of leagues away from Antiva here. Word couldn’t possibly have spread that far. Only it had, and it had grown from a story to a legend, in a way that couldn’t fail to tickle Riona, given the almost complete reversal of the story from its origin. The elves cursing Tevinter indeed. She couldn’t imagine where that twist had come from but she wasn’t going to tell them it was actually just one Tevinter and one elf.

Yet, as she listened to what the tale had become she could admit one thing to herself. Varric had been right. Their story was unrecognisable and now it had spread all over Thedas. Whether Danarius’ spies had caught wind of it or not, there was no single place they would be able to track it down to.

It was…a triumph. Just as Varric had intended. Things had gone to plan, a difficult enough thing to fathom at the best of times in Riona’s experience. All the while, the children delighted in their story and the fact the silly adults seemed scared while they were perfectly unharmed and excited by their rare sighting.

The event didn’t quite leave her mind after that night. Her guilt over the Inn incident doubled and trebled again, knowing she had to apologise to Varric, one way or another. It was almost certainly down to him that they had been relatively unaccosted throughout their journey, other than some bandits and thieves.

But the chance of a reunion with Varric came in an entirely unexpected way, nearly 3 seasons since she had last seen him.

Awakening to a pile of feathers all around her, Riona at first thought she had been in a fight. After a hurried assessment she found herself unharmed.

The poor carrier pigeon was another story.

Trying hard not to draw the unavoidable conclusions about the fate of the bird, Riona fixed her attention on the slightly spattered scroll attached.

“Ohh. This letter had better not have been _too_ important to someone.” Riona muttered to herself. She wasn’t far from where she and Fenris left their pack in the woods, so she made for the cover to pull on her clothes.

Once she was decent, curiosity quickly overcame her sense of propriety and she unrolled the missive, not recognising the seal - some kind of dwarven pattern. Maybe she could make a last ditch effort to send it on to it’s rightful owner if she had any indication who it was.

“Or I could fly it there myself.” She chuckled, the sound choking in her throat when she began reading.

 

_Hawke_

_I have no idea if this’ll get to you. Blondie assures me the bird will find you but you know better than most what featherbrains they are._

_You need to come back home. Your father is ill and the healers have done their best. You need to be here. I hope I’ve given you enough time._

_Signal me to meet you at the west gate. Nobody in Darktown gives strange things a second look, even in the middle of the day._

_Varric_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this one took forever, i'm sorry. Hopefully the extra long length makes up for it?
> 
> So, you know when an idea, or scene, or something, has been in your plan since the first days of dreaming up the story? I had about 3 of them all in this chapter. I hope some of them made you as happy (or not) as they did me
> 
> Thank you for reading, for your patience, and the lovely comments and kudos you've given me :)


	10. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had wished her well in her reunion with her family. To still be outside the city the next morning, looking at its imposing towers in the near distance from the same camp they had made the night before was an unpleasant surprise.
> 
> The letter was short, which only made him worry for Hawke’s state of mind, standing looking at the city where her father was waiting for her. Where Malcolm was _hopefully_ still waiting for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to add a warning here for **minor character death** that plays out at the end of this chapter. It is taken from the canon but if this is the kind of thing that will upset you, I ask you to stop reading, at least by the time they reach Kirkwall.

The letter caught his eye immediately as he opened the pack. Making his way through the words he realised then why it seemed everything had changed.

Hawke was going home. The letter must have arrived the previous evening and it was obvious why she had set off almost immediately. He wondered if she had taken the time to say farewell to the kind family that had given him work and food for the last season of their year in the Anderfels. The weight of the coin purse and the packet of bread he found neatly wrapped in the pack answered his question.

He had to stop himself worrying whether the family would get their grain out in time without his labour. He and Hawke had been in the same place for too long. He had already begun feeling twitchy about being in familiar surroundings after the first month of being there. Yet for some reason he had stayed. When Hawke had made no moves to find a new location, Fenris himself hadn’t been inclined to push them.

It may have been that they had a comfortable situation set up, he knew that Hawke had visited the family during the night, and he had been earning his keep. Which made him feel better than the stealing they had often resorted to for most of their food and money in Antiva. But something else was nagging at him too. A need to stop running, after all this time. He had the constant nagging feeling that if he didn’t face Danarius, he would never be able to live without constantly looking over his shoulder.

He knew it was as much his task as her own to get her there in as little time as possible, given the uncertainty of the letter and how long it had taken to find them. Even as he dressed he felt the hawk’s golden eye on him, as if judging him for taking the extra time to strap his chestplate on.

Hawke had talked most fondly of her father, when she had discussed her home. It had not been deliberate on her part but he had watched her as she spoke. He had taken in every word of the life she revealed to him outside the limited experience his own had offered. The concept of family. Her mother had been spoken of formally, as if Hawke herself didn’t know what she felt about her. Fenris had taken away the impression she was part of the reason Riona had decided to go travelling the whole of Thedas rather than dutifully stay at home.

Her brother Carver, she had mocked fondly, joking of his lack of humour or tales of his first attempts to use a sword. Though she had been as fiercely protective of him as the sister she had also been raised to protect. Bethany, sweet and kind and far more tactful than Riona – Hawke’s own words. She had been too young into her power, and Hawke had been both concerned for her and afraid of what she might do. But never resentful of the magic she was burdened with.

When Hawke had talked of her father, there was a reverence in her tone, the kind Fenris had thought he recognised at the time. A trusted elder, the person to follow, who gave orders and commanded the household’s respect. He was a huge figure in her life and so Fenris had thought to picture Malcolm Hawke as another Danarius.

But other words Hawke had used, her smiles and softened tones were not something Fenris could relate to when he thought of Danarius, so he came to realise Malcolm was nothing like his Master. Even the way she spoke of his magic sounded unlike anything he had experienced. Magic wasn’t used for domestic chores like cooking and cleaning the cobwebs, in his experience that was left for the slaves.

There was a whole world Hawke had known that Fenris was barely grappling with. And that was why he had to get her home, for she deserved every happiness he didn’t understand.

Now, he wasn’t running away from something but moving determinedly east, towards Kirkwall. A city he had heard only lovingly terrible stories about from Varric.

The hawk seemed more testy than usual, as if even in this form she was panicking, skittish, always urging Fenris on as he wasn’t moving fast enough. She would land on his shoulder, making quick, agitated noises in his ear and then immediately dig her claws in to push back off into the air again.

The first day of her talons swiftly reminded Fenris of the leather spaulder in the pack. After a few months at the same farm, the hawk had grown quite used to having a home base and therefore didn’t need to constantly check in on Fenris, sitting at his ear and preening his hair. It was a good thing too, since that was hard to hide and explain when employers saw it too often. So he had stopped wearing the shoulder pad and had known that come evening, the hawk would return to him, just as he found safe shelter in the woods.

He had travelled south first from the Hunterhorns, until they started reaching the warm outskirts of the Western Approach. Then their path had been much easier across the Fields of Ghislain, familiar after they had travelled those months ago. The Imperial Highway came upon them just west of Val Chevin but as night came Fenris fell asleep just beside it, then he woke the next morning to find they had walked it to it’s end in Cumberland and they were now on the coast of the Waking Sea. The Vimmark Mountain chain, previously a stain on the horizon, were the next hazard to cross before they hit the Planasene Forest.

Their pace was gruelling, a constant battle to ignore aching muscles accustomed now to field work and not this constant walking. But their goal ahead, not behind, kept Fenris pushing onwards.

The mountains ran to the coast line, great pillars of mountains that sank straight into the sea. Fenris awoke to find himself already some way along their treacherous paths at their base and their steep edges and uneven surface made him determined to cross them during the daylight. He dreaded what Hawke would manage to do to herself in a mad dash to get to her father in the tricky light of the evening and early morning.

That day was almost enough to stop Fenris in his tracks, even compared to their days crossing the edge of the Silent Plains, with their seemingly endless red, unforgiving sand that stretched over the horizon to the north. Now Fenris found himself longing for that flat landscape when the path he was on couldn’t find one steady level to travel at. He was constantly climbing up only to scramble back down, once or twice losing the path entirely to what looked like a mudslide or collapse some years ago. Then he would have to turn around and try to find another way around.

It was exhausting, physically and mentally, with the climbing up and down with no end in sight bone wearying in a hopeless way, until his legs were ready to collapse. Following complaints of the farmers that he was working himself to death and had to treat his body like he expected it to carry him for the rest of his life, Fenris had learnt to allow himself a break every now and again, rather than simply pressing through the ache. Now any time he did try to rest, the bird would hop onto the rock beside him, fixing a golden eye on him, so painfully familiar and he knew he had to get up, carry on.

The end of the day’s light was coming traitorously soon, the sun skimming the tops of the mountains to the east, but he knew that it would take a little longer before he began to feel it touch the flat horizon in this hemisphere. However, he still couldn’t see the coast he was aiming for. He had treid to follow the path, and several times he thought he caught the glimmer of water in the distance, only to top the rise and find it was either further than it looked or more hopelessly, a trick of the light. So he pushed on.

Would he feel it, if Hawke fell and killed herself trying to tackle these paths alone in the dark? Even after all this time he still wasn’t entirely sure how the curse worked. Were they bonded together or was it simply a convenient way to keep them apart? It had been almost three years, and he had as few answers as they had started with, and no solutions.

“Hello!”

The voice broke him from him dark musings. He looked up, as always, to find the bird, checking whether she was safe. He couldn’t see her.

He looked down to the ground instead and on the path slightly further down the hill found a young elf waving to him. On the other arm, tilting her head in that endearing and entirely friendly manner, was his hawk.

“What are you doing?” Fenris demanded, quickly closing the distance between them down the slope and reaching for the hilt of his sword.

“Oh, savhalla! I’m not doing much, really but I seem to have made a friend.” The girl replied in a lyrical voice, seeming completely oblivious to the threat Fenris posed and instead peering at the bird who, even more infuriatingly, seemed to be staring back.

“What are you doing with her?” Fenris focused on the bird who, even after months of travelling with Varric, had only ever alighted on the dwarf for a moments at a time. The dwarf had always been amusingly sore about that. Though she had also been happier to sit on Isabela, his memory unhelpfully reminded him.

“Nothing at all! She just came to me when I said hello. She has beautiful eyes, doesn’t she?” As Fenris drew closer, the elf finally turned her wide, green eyes to look at him. “I suppose she’s yours? This doesn’t usually happen with wild birds, but maybe I’m very lucky today.”

“Stop…talking.” Fenris motioned sharply with a hand, the hand he had removed from his sword hilt when he decided the woman seemed unlikely to attack. If it became necessary he knew just how fast he was able to draw it.

“So sorry. I ramble when I‘m nervous and I haven’t really seen anyone in a few days. What brings you out this way?” She continued and then fell quiet under the glower Fenris directed on her. “Sorry.”

“That is my business. Good day.” He made to move on, gesturing to the bird who ruffled her feathers as if considering flitting to his arm only to settle once more. The elf opened her mouth to speak.

“I understand that, of course, you’re welcome to your privacy, it’s just…it’s going to be getting dark soon and these paths are not very easy to cross in the night. I would feel terrible if I walked away and later found you’d hurt yourself.”

“I’m sure you don’t need to worry yourself.”

“Oh but I will. See, I know this area. And it’s not safe to cross or to camp here. You’d be better getting to the coast.”

Fenris made to rebuff her once more, before he caught something in her tone. A reassurance that she knew what she was talking about. “Is that…far?”

“Well, not if you know where you’re going. But it’s very easy to get lost or to fall when the light’s getting poor.”

“I have good eyesight.” He remarked and then frowned in alarm at the delighted laugh the woman gave in reply.

“Of course you do, you’re an elf just like me.”

“If you could just point me in the right direction that would be sufficient.”

“It’s no bother, I can show you the way.”

“No, just tell me how to do it.” Fenris was as blunt as he could be. He was even more out of practise talking to people than he had thought but this elf was apparently incapable of taking a hint. Instead, she turned her large eyes on him, teeth worrying the edge of her lip. The hawk also turned to look at him and he tried to ignore the double stare he was receiving.

“Is this…about the hawk?” The elf queried finally and Fenris tensed.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she’s not exactly a normal bird is she?” Fenris stared at her, his mind working very fast and fingers twitching. What did she know? Was she armed? It didn’t take him long to react and before she could speak again his sword was in his hand. There was no giving up without a fight, and he would defend Hawke with his life. Only how to get her away from the elf?

He knew that he had given away the truth in the elf’s question. No one would draw a sword if it was any average bird. Yet, she didn’t react how he expected. No sneer as he revealed his position, no smile that her pay packet was about to get weighed down with the bounty of handing them back to Danarius.

“I can see it, in her eyes. I’m not trying to frighten you. I meant it, when I said I could help. And you need the help to get out of here. Where are you going anyway? Kirkwall, or the coast?” Fenris knew better than to reply. “Alright fine, but it’s this way. If we don’t move now the light will be lost.”

She began to walk down the path, stepping lightly backwards as she was sensibly unwilling to turn her back on the huge sword. Despite that, she moved with a buoyant grace across paths Fenris had been struggling up and down all day. Perhaps, there was some merit to having a guide who knew her way around.

As if to give him one last sign to follow, the hawk flew off her arm, the elf making no move to stop her leaving, and swooped back towards Fenris, making one loop of his head then darting forwards once more.

With a final grunt of acceptance, Fenris began following the elf’s steps, although he kept the sword in his hands. Once he’d made it obvious he was making progress, the bird landed swiftly on his shoulder. “Lazy thing.” He admonished her.

“Did you say something?” The elf spoke up and Fenris realised he was close enough for her to have probably heard quite clearly. But if she was going to act polite, he decided it was worth it to play along.

“Do you have a name?”

“Oh, sorry. I’m Merrill!” She spoke cheerfully, and despite the fact he’d caught up to her and she turned to look at him as she spoke, she didn’t mention, or even seem to acknowledge the blade between them. Fenris couldn’t figure out if the elf was incredibly naïve, or playing some kind of dangerous game he hadn’t yet figured out. Still, she seemed entirely chirpy as she continued, “And do you have a name too?”

He considered lying, but with the same surprising liberty he had found in moving towards a particular goal rather than simply avoiding capture, he made a decision to own up to himself directly. “Fenris.” Little wolf.

They made it, more or less, to the end of the most impassable paths through the mountains and Fenris could see the road flattening out ahead. Becoming more passable for Hawke in the dark.

He could also just see the sun to the west, while the horizon due south of them finally revealed the stretch of the Waking Sea. Orange lights sparkled and danced across the distant sea, and Fenris felt the now quite familiar sensation of approaching sunset.

And Merrill was still here.

“Thank you for your help, Merrill.” Fenris began, thinking hurriedly. “I can manage from here. I don’t want to hold you from whatever you were doing.”

“No bother. And I can’t head north now. I know how stupid it would be to try and walk that path now. If you don’t mind, I’ll have to make camp on this side with you. Maybe you’d even tell me a little more about your special hawk.”

“Actually, we weren’t staying here.” Running out of time. “You should, though.”

“I promise you, this is the most sheltered spot. And it’s sensible to stay together. More numbers is safer against bears and wolves out here.”

“Wolves. That would be a surprise.” Fenris couldn’t help the way the thought amused him, because at least he knew he had a good cover. If he could just get away, he and Hawke were quite capable of protecting themselves.

“No, they’re quite common in this area.” Merrill refusal to move on was beyond frustrating and he had half a mind to reach for his sword once more. The hawk had switched to circling low around the ground, before heading behind a curve of the hill. Fenris’ fingers twitched at his side.

He could follow Hawke. But his sword was here and Merrill was bending over the fire with her back turned. The shiver of sunset ran up his spine.

“Oh, did you feel that?” Merrill commented, lifting her head.

Too late.

>>><<>><<>><<>><<< 

Fenris woke to the most unpleasant surprise. Merrill was still there.

He dragged himself to the clothes bag and pulled on a pair of trousers before returning to the recently banked up fire.

“You know, you’re actually more friendly when you’re scowling at me like that.” Merrill smiled at him. He didn’t stop scowling.

“You didn’t leave.” He observed unhappily.

“No, not for lack of trying on your part though.” Merrill gave the impression she barely batted an eye at the half clothed ex-wolf, ex-elf stood in front of her. “But Hawke is so lovely, she managed to sort everything out. I mean, she told me that you wouldn’t remember, but maybe you do…do you?” Okay, perhaps she wasn’t completely unfazed. Her words came faster the more she spoke. It wasn’t immediately better or worse than the inappropriately relaxed attitude she’d held the previous night.

“What are you going to do?” Fenris found himself asking. His mind wasn’t quite letting him process the fear and anger he was feeling.

“About what?”

Fenris blinked. “About us. What do you plan to do with what you know?” He insisted

“I wasn’t planning on doing anything, really.” Merrill said.

“Be plain. Tell me your ploy.” Fenris took a step to the side of the clearing where their bags lay and his hand closed around the hilt of his sword. Armour be damned, she didn’t look any kind of a threat. Just a lone Dalish elf. “You must hope to gain something from it.”

“Oh I knew about Hawke not really being a hawk last night. It wasn’t that much of a surprise to see you as a wolf after that.” Fenris froze, dumbstruck. “You have the same eyes.”

That cleared his head of the haze that had overtook it. “No, we don’t.”

“Not colour, no. But the animals do. You look at me the same way. And each other. I could see so much behind those eyes, not like any wild animal. Yes, they think, but they don’t feel like we do.”

His next thought was derailed from notions of Danarius sending a Dalish spy after them into this part of the world. Instead he was confused by what Merrill had just told him.

“But we don’t think in those forms. We’re just animals.”

“You’re not animals, you’re Fenris and Hawke.”

“What are you saying?” All this time, he believed he was carrying a hawk. He had known there was something there when she always came back to him alone, but it was not really Hawke. Though, with what little he truly understood about magic, what if he had been wrong?

“This is magic, yes? There’s no one mage powerful enough to master complete transformation of a man into an animal. Perhaps if the spell was permanent then you might lose your minds but with all this switching backwards and forwards, you’re always maintaining something of you. A person’s mind is too strong to be removed completely. It’s quite fascinating really.”

 “I have to move on.” He said through gritted teeth and tried to ignore the oblivious nature of this elf turning their cursed life into an interesting trick of magic. Merrill was looking at him with concern in her eyes. The hawk, was perched above their pack, waiting for him to move on. “I have wasted enough time here as it is. If you do not wish to turn us over to his spies, I will let you live.”

“Whose spies? Thank you, for that by the way. But I don’t want to turn you over to anyone. Oh, are you on the run?” Merrill asked with nothing but interest as Fenris turned to retrieve his worn shirt.

It was a relief Hawke hadn’t told Merrill what they were doing, that she didn’t seem to even know about Danarius. At this point, Fenris felt too tired to figure out if it was an act. He had a mission to stop Danarius stealing yet another thing from Hawke.

Pack on his shoulder, Hawke fluttering above his head, Fenris bade the curious elf farewell.

Merrill followed. He ignored it for a few more steps while he found the path, then turned back.

“You were going the other way.” He gestured behind her, realising as he did so that they weren’t where they had started last night. Hawke had moved them further during the night, and Merrill had followed. In the opposite direction to that she had been going when he had first encountered her.

“Actually I wasn’t going any way in particular. I was just out here searching for herbs and well, it’s probably time I went back to the city anyway.” She managed to look mildly abashed, even as she closed the distance between them. “Hawke said you might mind.”

“Hawke was right.”

“You won’t even notice I’m here.” She said encouragingly.

“Because you won’t be.” He shifted the pack on his back, and turned away. “Go back to where you came from.”

“That’s what I’m doing. Well, not where I came from originally. But where I stay at the moment.” Merrill pointed forwards along Fenris’ path, as if to prove she knew where she was going.

“You are truly going to Kirkwall?”

“Yes, I’ve lived there almost a year now. But it’s much nicer out here and I don’t get lost half as much.”

“Aren’t you Dalish? Don’t you have a clan?” Fenris relented, and began to walk.

“I am Dalish, yes.” Merrill replied, with such a tone in her voice Fenris knew better than to ask her to elaborate. That was a wound that was too raw.

“So, Hawke. What did she say to you?” He asked instead and Merrill was happy to chatter once again. After she had told him of Hawke’s conversation the night before, she went on to explain what healing herbs she had been out searching the mountains for, what kinds of animals she had seen and the types of people she had met. Fenris allowed her to talk while he wondered instead whether anyone might be tracking them here.

Merrill didn’t strike him as the master of disguise that could play this unabashed, naïve dolt while scheming to turn them over to a Tevinter Magister. It didn’t seem to fit what little he knew of people. Hawke had seen no reason to turn her away, although he didn’t know how much he trusted Hawke’s judgement. There had been one or two hastily remedied mistakes in the last few years.

However, Fenris’ concern was what Danarius might be expecting. He would undoubtedly know of Hawke’s father being ill, if they were as prominent a family as Fenris had gathered. Would Danarius then expect them to be taking this route, rather than following the road through the mountains north of Kirkwall.

That night Fenris made camp only a couple of hours shy of Kirkwall. He assumed that he would wake up in the city somewhere, possibly in Hawke’s estate but that she would have reached her father in his time of need. Instead he woke to find Merrill gone and a letter.

It had unnerved Fenris to have heard very little word from Hawke, in any kind of letter or note, until he knew they were drawing close to Kirkwall. Although with Merrill there he had at least been able to return to their familiar method of passing messages through their companion, so he had wished her well in her reunion with her family. To still be outside the city the next morning, looking at its imposing towers in the near distance from the same camp, was an unpleasant surprise.

The letter was short, which only made him worry for Hawke’s state of mind, standing looking at the city where her father was waiting for her. Where Malcolm was _hopefully_ still waiting for her.

The letter explained the meaning in Varric’s note. That he wanted them to meet during the day, rather than at night. So Fenris had to be the one to go into the city he had never seen before. Meanwhile, the question of how Varric would know they were here was answered by Merrill’s disappearance. Provided Hawke was right to trust her with the task.

With doubt settled on his mind over so many things that could go wrong, Fenris walked to the spot he had been directed to wait at, somewhat farther from the city walls than he had expected.

“I meant for you to send Hawke, not a messenger elf.” Was the first thing Varric said as he came within hearing distance of Fenris.

“I don’t think she would take well to being used as a carrier pigeon.” Fenris retorted, and then Varric - who had seemingly appeared from nowhere - was within arm’s reach and he patted the dwarf on the back. “It’s good to see you again, Varric.” He surprised himself with the honesty in his words. It was the first time he had what he could call a friend.

“I’ve missed you too, elf. And your feathered accessory. Now come on, we need to get you into town.” Varric turned and began walking, his pace surprisingly hurried ow that he was the one leading their path.

“So, we’re not too late.” A huge relief, something he had been fearing every step of the way, every lengthened stride to get them there just that bit earlier.

“He’s still here but I don’t know for how much longer. I honestly didn’t even know if my message got to you.”

“I am grateful. You don’t know how much seeing her family again will mean to her, even in these worst of circumstances.” They turned the corner of the road but instead of following it, began following the rocky outcrop they stood in the shadow of. Within moments Fenris saw a hidden cave mouth open up in front of him. He decided not to comment, aware that Varric knew this city like the back of his crossbow. Of course he had hidden entrances, and of course they had to be stealthy in their approach.

The path they took once they had disappeared into the cave turned towards the city, then it felt like he was going down. And down, almost as if they were tunnelling directly under the city, feeling his way along the walls. This was a blackness he wasn’t used to, not in 3 years had he seen anything as much as a dark inn. The smell of dampness and sewers grew to a heady cloud around them and Fenris rapidly found his breath coming shorter, more difficult to draw. Then just as suddenly as it came over him, there was light once more ahead of them. Fenris found his hand was on Varric’s shoulder and he hastily drew it back to his side.

He found them walking into the underworld, a grim place hidden beneath the city where it appeared cleanliness came to die. Or, equally likely, where anyone on the run from the law came to hide. He got the distinct impression the tunnel they had just arrived through was usually travelled in the outgoing direction. He had seen plenty of beggars on streets before, but here it appeared there was unrelenting misery everywhere he looked. A fine first impression of Hawke’s home.

He followed Varric through the cave system, all the while Hawke ruffled on his arm. He couldn’t tell if it was because some part of her recognised this place or from her nervousness to get home. It was possibly due to the draughts and unfamiliar noises pressing in all around them. He wasn’t sure how well he could picture Hawke in a place like this.

“You’re looking well, Fenris. You managed to find money for new clothes?”

“I wish I could say we paid for them from our earnings, but I feel Hawke is better at acquiring things she wants than she lets on.” On second thought, maybe she did fit in rather well to this picture of a crime ridden Darktown.

“Yeah, I…already knew that.” Varric commented and Fenris thought of all the nights she had no doubt practiced her light fingered skills in front of the dwarf. “But hey, drunks would only spend their money unwisely anyway.”

“I see, she was saving them from themselves. I only thought a master thief would be more subtle about it. I can’t complain. Our warm cloaks were a blessing in the Anderfels.”

“You will have to tell me what you were doing there. But another time.” Varric pointed ahead of them, where a small lantern at the top of the steps shed light on a wooden door, hanging slightly crooked on it’s hinges.

“He’s at a clinic? Not at home? But doesn’t she live in a mansion?” Fenris probed, taken aback at the idea this dismal looking place was where they might care for any sick people, let alone Hawke’s father.

“He’s not, but the healer should be.”

Varric didn’t bother to knock on the door and Fenris followed more hesitantly behind him. The room they revealed had a surprising semblance of cheer, sheets hung up between cots for privacy, and several lanterns burning, somehow keeping it warm despite the open air just outside the door. There were a few children sat on the floor playing with kittens but before Fenris could pay much more attention, someone hurried over and called out Varric’s name.

It was a young human woman walking towards them. “Serah Varric, you’re here, thank the Maker.” Varric turned and smiled at her pleasantly.

“Anders?”

“Messere Anders is already up at the mansion. He was called back urgently this morning and told me to send you up as soon as you got here. If you got here.” She said, all in a rush, sounding like the words had been rehearsed throughout the morning.

“Thank you…?”

“Charade, serah.” She answered and then gestured out the door. “He told me you knew the way to the cellar?”

“Thanks, Charade. You’re doing a great job managing here on your own.” Varric assured her kindly and then turned straight back out the way they had come. Fenris followed, distracted by the busy centre for wounded and ill people set up in this slum area. A kindness he hadn’t expected to find in the darkness beneath the city.

Instead of going back to the stairs at the entrance to the clinic, Varric led him onto what Fenris had assumed was a pointless platform. Instead it took Varric only a moment of prodding a pin at the wall until Fenris heard the audible click of a lock and the wall turned out to be a door. Varric made an appreciative noise about tightening security but his attention was focused onwards, up the stairs once they were through.

Fenris closed the door behind them and immediately felt a shift in the air. The scent and pitiful noises of the undercity were shut out and immediately the corridor they were climbing into seemed too quiet, too still. Fenris shivered involuntarily and even Varric seemed subdued, something that alerted Fenris to trouble more than anything. Something in this house wasn’t right.

Climbing another set of stairs, they unlocked a heavy wooden door and entered a pantry. Much like any other pantry Fenris had seen, the similarity gave him small comfort.

Then into the main hall, every step saw Fenris drag his feet as the hawk on his arm let out whistles of increasing disquiet. She sensed it too. Varric walked across the hall, his boots sending echoes clattering around the silent walls of the strangely empty mansion. They made their way up the stairs, Varric seemed to need no guidance around the house and Fenris wondered when he had become so familiar with the family.

Fenris, with the bird perched on his arm, sitting unnaturally still, felt remarkably out of place. Hawke only moved her head, continually facing in one direction. Fenris couldn’t tell if it was the room upstairs they headed towards now, or the way out the back of the house that they had just come. The nearest escape.

With leaden legs, Fenris followed the dwarf upstairs and he stopped at a simple wooden door, what Fenris could only assume was a bedroom. Varric knocked on the door and a quiet, uncertain voice came from inside.

“Messere Leandra?” A shuffle as someone moved inside. “It’s Varric here, I have someone to meet you.”

A sudden jolt of movement from inside and then the door opened on a woman’s face, looking expectantly out into the corridor. Fenris’ breath caught in his throat because, while the woman looked nothing like Riona, the expression he saw on her face in the split second as the door revealed her reminded him of her so fiercely, it left him floundering before the memory.

“Riona?” The woman looked to Varric dismissively and her eyes turned to Fenris, only for her face to crumple in disappointment upon seeing him. “I thought that was…” It was a crushing regret that engulfed Fenris as he saw her lose faith before his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He said, knowing that she wished her daughter was standing there as much as he did. Instead the woman put a hand to her heart and took a faltering step backwards.

“Hawke is fine. She’s here. I did _want_ to warn you in advance but really, it’s something to be seen to be believed.” Varric made a move forwards and, still looking a little shellshocked, Riona’s mother stepped backwards again, gesturing for them to enter the room. As she turned away, Varric muttered in an aside to Fenris, “Poor choice of words, elf.”

Then he walked into the room and Fenris was expected to follow. He stood, willing his legs to step forwards while at the same time, his senses screamed to turn in the other direction. He wasn’t ready for this. Her family. What had to be her father on the other side of the door. The father they had rushed here to see because it was too late to save him.

He swung his head to the side as his eyes caught movement. On the far side of the hall, sat upright and turned straight towards him, was the largest dog he had ever seen. It wasn’t looking at him, Fenris realised, but at his arm, the hawk. He let out a cold chuckle.

“You recognise her too? It seems that happens much more than I like.” Fenris said in a low tone and the dog whined, shuffling it’s huge paws slightly further forwards, while staying in the same spot on the floor, not sure what to do about this source of its confusion.

He heard other voices in the room and it was clear now it was up to him to face Hawke’s fear. And he had to be the one to explain why she wasn’t there for her father.

He stepped into the room.

It was not what he expected. A man lay in the main bed, hidden behind a tall blond human who stood, peering over at him with his hands held over the bedridden man’s chest, a ghostly blue light glowing there. On the other side of the bed Hawke’s mother had repositioned herself, her hand clasped in her husband’s. On the other side of the room stood a young man and woman, and Fenris knew just as instinctively that these were Hawke’s sibling, the twins Carver and Bethany. And stood just in front of the door was Varric.

Fenris felt his blood run cold as he recognised the channelled power of a mage, reverberating in his skin. It had been so long since he had sensed it, as divorced from civilisation beyond poor farmers and herdsmen as they had been since leaving Antiva, the sensation immediately set his teeth on edge. Too many memories, too much associated with the power and the thrumming in his lyrium, Fenris cast another, unsettled eye over Anders.

However, despite this and despite the sense he could still sense something wrong in the room, like a dog that can smell sickness, the bedroom he stood in was bright. The windows were drawn back and light flooded in, Bethany had a smile on her face, while Carver had a look of annoyance on his face rather than sadness. Fenris’ eyes caught a few scratch marks in the wooden parts of the bed and furnishings and there were brightly patterned rugs thrown over the bed, clearly homemade. The haphazard colour scheme was reminiscent of the hangings in the clinic downstairs, the bright haven in the dank tunnels.

They all looked to Fenris as he entered and even in the warm room, he felt the weight of the family’s expectant stares. Luckily Varric was quick to take on his role of speaking where Fenris was unsure how to proceed.

“Hawkes, this is Fenris. I didn’t want to get your hopes up because I didn’t know whether they would get my letter but…he came here with Hawke.” Anything else he was going to say was cut off by excited response his words elicited.

“She’s back?”

“You _did_ bring her?”

“Always manage to make an entrance at the last moment.”

Her family spoke all at once and Fenris’ eyes darted from one to the other. The hawk on his arm did the same.

Her father on the bed was the only one who didn’t make a comment but his eyes caught Fenris’ so entirely. He looked nothing like the Hawke Fenris knew, though it was hard to tell with his gaunt, hollowed face and his skin that seemed almost grey and translucent. Fenris couldn’t entirely tell whether that was an effect of the glow from the mage’s hands. However, Fenris found himself looking into Hawke’s golden eyes.

“She is coming, but she cannot be here at this moment.” Fenris found the words caught in his throat. His eyes turned from her father’s back to Varric. A brief appeal for something - help, confirmation.

“You’re good, elf. Just give them the truth.” The dwarf encouraged him instead, and Fenris took a small breath to look back at the room.

“So she’s alright? And here in Kirkwall?” Bethany spoke out, stepping away from the small desk she had been perching on and looking to Fenris so hopefully.

“She is. We came as fast as it was possible to travel once we received Varric’s letter.” Fenris said. He wanted to say that he was glad to have made it in time, but suddenly the hours until sunset seemed to stretch far ahead now that Fenris was faced with the frail appearance of the man in the bed. “I’m sorry that circumstances didn’t allow her to return here sooner.”

“What ‘circumstances’? Was she trying to return or did she want to stay away? Is she here or not?” Hawke’s mother demanded and Fenris heard the disapproval in her voice. He couldn’t blame her.

“It is difficult, Hawke made choices that…I cannot say, that is her truth to tell.” Fenris deflected instead, knowing where his loyalties lay. Though how could he stand here and face her parents, her family and tell them that he was the reason their daughter left and never came home. He had brought her home but he couldn’t tell them that Hawke’s own stubborn foolishness had caused her to become trapped in his story.

However, at his non-answer, he heard Hawke’s sister Bethany try to hold in a noise of surprise, while her father gave a soft chuckle and pushed himself up slightly on his elbows to see Fenris better. As light a sound as it was, Fenris felt the rest of the room react to him, turning to face him.

“She had better things keeping her away.” He said with a knowing tone, his mind quickly jumping to the correct conclusions but his laugh turned into a weak rattle. The blond mage finally stopped with his glowing hands and pressed a hand on the man’s chest, lowering him firmly back to the pillows propped against the headboard. Whatever magic had been done, the man looked a slightly warmer colour than when Fenris had entered, but it still was not the face of a healthy man. The relief from the magic itching against his skin was welcome, however.

The eyes of the room slowly returned to Fenris and now they were more appraising.

“I cannot…she is here. But I have to ask you to believe what I say.” Fenris rethought his approach as Varric gave him another encouraging nod, then he plunged onwards. “Hawke and I travel together, we have been doing so for some years now but there is something going on that she could not risk having you involved in. It was better for everyone that she stay away from here.”

The room was looking at him, even Varric, who Fenris belatedly realised was listening to his story telling ability, as much as anything. Varric knew as much of their situation as he did, probably even more. It was baffling why Fenris was left with this job.

Only it had been given to him by Hawke. She expected him to face her family, and for her, he could do it.

“We have not been able to return to you because we have been under the affliction of a Magister’s curse.” He didn’t let their reactions interrupt him. “You will see the results for yourselves soon enough, but this is why I have to ask you to believe, it was through no fault of your own, nor Hawke’s that she did not come back to you. The curse was created by my Master. My old master.”

The room was still, and Fenris paused, wondering if they trusted him or not. A soft brush of something pressed against him and Fenris shuddered involuntarily. It was a kind of questing magic, one he recognised for the times it was used to locate Fenris, or work out where to press the most pain.

This magic had a different signature to it. Lighter and cooler, a fresh drink on a hot summer’s day. Then Malcolm spoke again, despite the fierce glare of retribution his wife sent his way.

“Is she…with you?” He asked and Fenris narrowed his eyes to consider the man, the mage Hawke had told him about. Surely in his state he wasn’t using his magic, he shouldn’t have the mana to expend.

Fenris sighed again and gave a last look around the room. Her family, when he looked closer, all seemed to be on the edge of their nerves. The twins may have first appeared calm and collected but when he looked closer he could see the strain of worry pulling at their faces. He didn’t know how to soften the blow.

“Hawke is cursed in the same way that I am, to become an animal. She becomes a hawk.” He said and shifted his arm slightly to demonstrate the subdued bird perched on him. There was a wave confusion across the room but Fenris pushed on with the part he felt they most needed to hear. “She will be back with you at sunset, as a human. There is nothing to do until then but wait. It happens every day.”

“If…” Bethany began. “You said you’re both cursed, so then why are you here?” While she was trying to be kind, Fenris couldn’t miss the slight accusatory tone in her voice.

“I am only elf, as long as she is animal. At night, she will be Hawke- Riona again and I change into…a wolf.” He had never spoken the truth to anyone, in all these years. It meant that naming his other form was more difficult than he expected. He felt, rather than saw, their perception of him change. Her namesake was obvious, but a wolf only conjured images of savage beasts or in some tales, a scheming villain. And he had just shown himself as both. “It was a punishment by my master and I am truly sorry for the fact this foolishness kept her away from you. As I told you, we felt it was safer to keep away from you.”

“Your master? So you did something wrong?” Her brother, Carver. Fenris accepted his angered tone by looking down at the floor, before he heard Bethany’s sharp rebuke and caught her elbow him quickly. Varric spoke at the same time.

“It was no one’s fault, from what I have gathered, but the temper of a selfish Tevinter Magister. I don’t know if you’ve met them, but they’re not the easiest folks to get along with. The elf is not to blame.” Interestingly, they all seemed to listen to Varric.

That was the moment the hawk decided to rouse herself out of her quiet contemplation, and she glided swift and silent to land directly on her father’s stomach. As she gave a small chirp and turned her sharp gaze on both of her parents, Leandra gave a sudden sob.

“Oh, my little girl!” She wailed and let go of her husband’s hand to reach out to the hawk. Fenris involuntarily stepped forward, he had seen the bird have a peck at more than one person who assumed she was tame and that beak could be wickedly sharp. It was only a slight surprise that the bird turned quite willingly to allow her mother to gently stroke the top of her head.

After a short moment the bird jumped down from her father and walked to wait next to the hand that was lying on the top of his bed covers. With a small effort Malcolm stretched a finger to run it along the bird’s silky wing.

Again Fenris felt a slight shift and he knew magic was being used, but it felt disjointed somehow, a sputtering attempt.

“Let me.” The healer had obviously sensed it too and realised that Malcolm was unwise to use his magic, and stepped forward only to be cut off.

Bethany had moved faster and was already approaching her mother’s side. She put a hand out slowly to the bird and Leandra withdrew her own. Bethany then ran her hand slowly over the bird and made some kind of swift examination, drawing her hand back like she had been scalded. Fenris noted the magic felt steadier, and more controlled than her father’s. Even his seeking attempt, for Fenris now realised he had been the one that identified her before, had felt more under control than the mana reserve he had just shown. The man was fading fast and Fenris found himself looking to the window where the sun sat traitorously high in the sky.

“Why did this happen? Why did she have to go running off like that?” Hawke’s mother said with bitterness in her voice. “Why did she have to find you?”

The words cut deeper than he wanted to admit and Fenris couldn’t look at her, or her family. He felt the urge to run from the room where he so clearly didn’t belong. “I ask myself the same question every day. Every morning and every evening.”

“Then you admit it. She would have been here otherwise. She’s been trapped like this for 4 years?” Leandra continued and Fenris could only clench his fist at his side as his constant source of guilt was reaffirmed, spat back in his face.

“She had a year of adventuring before she even met Fenris. They have been suffering this curse, together, for almost 3 years.” Varric interjected and Fenris for a moment felt a rush of warmth towards the dwarf. Enough that he could lift his head to look towards the family around the bed.

“I will leave you alone. I wish I did not have to intrude.” Fenris began to back out of the room.

“Fenris.” Malcolm spoke and Fenris’ head snapped up to him. “I know my Riona, and what would possess her to stand up to a Magister.” He spoke slowly, with lengthy pauses, but he weighed each word with absolute sincerity. “You are the other half of my Riona, and you deserve to be here.”

His eyes widened with grief. This man who had just met him, offered a hand of acceptance to the very man who had kept his daughter away by his own admission. Yet there was another Hawke he vividly remembered standing up for him when he thought she had every reason not to. Leandra had turned to say something quickly to Malcolm but at the man’s heavy look had held her tongue.

“Fenris,” Bethany said, turning to him instead and giving a small smile. “Perhaps you could tell us more about what you have been doing over the years.”

Fenris blinked but he tried, hesitantly at first, then more easily, to tell them anything he could that they wanted to know about Riona’s missing years. He could remember anecdotes she had told him about her time in Antiva and although his renditions were not quite so vivid as hers had been, he managed to raise a laugh from them once or twice.

He tried to give what he could of their time together, the years they had been cursed actually simpler to discuss than the time they had been together, and the decisions she made then that led her to defending him. Varric was helpful in filling in some details.

And talking helped. Not just him but everyone in the room. Malcolm smiled along with charming attention when Fenris started and it took a while before he could, but he made occasional comments on Riona’s apparently predictable actions, though Fenris disputed that description. As the afternoon carried on, Malcolm’s comments came farther apart and his breaths drew shallower.

Every now and again, Anders stepped forwards to administer more of the glowing treatment, which Fenris came to realise was only an energy boost. And they were coming closer and closer together, each one seemed to take more from Anders than it gave to Malcolm.

Fenris found he wasn’t always the one talking, sometimes the family members turned an anecdote about a time earlier in their lives as something Fenris said reminded them of an event and he was as absorbed in their stories as they had been in his.

And every moment they tried to pretend the sun wasn’t sinking too slowly and the man between them wasn’t slipping from their presence.

Their stories grew more subdued and Fenris wasn’t sure whether they were trying to fill the presence Hawke left vacant, or they were keeping Malcolm alert. At some point Bethany had sat down on the bed and Carver was stood behind her, one arm around her front which she clung onto. She was recounting a tale early on from their time in Kirkwall, when her father had been made to reprimand herself and Hawke after catching them shooting apples from the tree with alternating bolts of energy and thrown rocks.

Fenris only belatedly realised there were tear tracks staining her cheeks.

They were approaching the last couple of hours of sunlight and Fenris felt the dawning realisation across the room that they might not actually make it through this strange waiting period they found themselves in. Anders had already been to find any lyrium they had supplies of. Bethany had attempted to lend her power to her father but it wasn’t a part of the magic she possessed and she cried in despair when she couldn’t do it. Fenris would vividly remember the way Malcolm had only shushed her anguish, closed his fingers around her own and gently brushed his thumb over her hand. Even without using words, he was able to comfort Bethany with the forgiveness and warmth that Hawke’s descriptions of her father had always radiated.

He wished he could have met the man before this. There was nothing they could do now but hope and Malcolm said less and less, until his breathing was barely moving his chest. Then once again he opened his eyes and locked them with Fenris’. He opened his mouth a few times before any sound at all came out.

“Fenris, thank you.” Malcolm said, clearly trying to disguise how tired he really was though his voice came out barely more than a whisper. “For bringing her home to us.” He smiled, and the hawk chirped and bent down to nibble at the finger that had stopped stroking her.

The sun was hanging just over the rooftops of the blissfully unaware Kirkwall outside, a fiery orange beam falling across the bed between the hawk and her father’s still face.

They had crossed the plains and desert from the Hunterhorn Mountains. They had traversed half of Thedas by foot in barely over a week, maintaining an almost crippling pace as they had to hurry to reach Hawke’s home in time. All the weariness of his journey, the mornings he had rolled onto his feet to begin moving and the days he hadn’t stopped to rest suddenly caught up to him, utter weariness dragging him down into a dark well of despair as he realised.

It had all been for nothing.

The sunlight stood blazing across the bed clothes as a barrier between Hawke and her chance to talk to her father one last time.

He stood silently, dumbly as the family in front of him seemed to crumple. A wail from Leandra when she reached for her husband’s hand and there was no response. Bethany turned her face into her brother’s chest and clung on while he stiffly moved his arms around her, a look of shock on his face as he came to terms with what he was seeing. All of it reached Fenris as a distant roar, like something at the other end of a tunnel.

The hawk added her own shriek to the noise and leapt into the air to uselessly beat around the room. This scene couldn’t be the first thing he let Hawke awaken to see. It was a raw grief like nothing Fenris had ever seen, most shocking to him because he knew he had lost people but he had never known to mourn. He signalled the hawk to his arm and she came as if seeking comfort from him.

At some point Anders and Varric had removed themselves from the room and Fenris ducked into the first door he found outside, where the dog still sat.

The room was aglow with the fires and crimson of the sunset blazing through another uncovered window and Fenris was incensed with how colours could so contrast the darkness of the room next door.

He felt numb, entirely separated from the mourning of the family and shocked by how suddenly the wasting illness had seemed to take its hold and his gift to Hawke’s last chance had been irreparably shattered. Malcolm had still had a grateful smile on his face when he breathed his last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I feel i should apologise but sorry, this was in the plan from the beginning, something of a departure from the LadyHawke story but i wanted to add my own Kirkwall touch to it. Also if you want to feel miserable like I did while writing this, I could suggest you go listen to [The Last Goodbye](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q8ir8rVl2Z4)


	11. An Oath Sworn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Meeting you and Fenris, it changed my life. I wouldn't be here today if you hadn't let me in on your world and the struggles you were-"_  
>  "Are."  
> "-are facing." 

Her scratched armoire, the painting of Bethany on the wall and even the familiar whine and thump of a heavy dog’s head on her lap. Riona awoke in her room and for that one blissful moment, it was like waking from a long, tiring dream back to familiar surroundings, Kirkwall, her family.

Her father.

Before she looked down she knew it wasn’t Cai’s head she was holding in her lap but the white fur of Fenris. He had brought her home. She gently pushed him from her knees to stand and on opening the wardrobe she breathed a sigh of relief to find clean clothes, rather than the same couple of outfits she had been cycling for the past few months.

Dressing faster than she had thought possible, she hurried out into the hallway to find Varric there, seeming distinctly out of place in her memories of home. Next to him stood a blond man with an overabundance of feathers decorating his shoulders. Varric was looking down at his shoes while the tall man was leaning headfirst against the wall, one arm raised so Hawke couldn’t see his face, though she was fairly certain she didn’t recognise him.

Varric turned quickly when he heard her and he didn’t have to open his mouth once she saw his face. Riona had known it from the moment she stepped into the still hallway, maybe even the moment she woke up. This was the day she had been dreading.

Varric tried to smile weakly at her, after the year they had been apart, she knew there was so much she wanted to say to him. But he slowly closed his eyes and shook his head. Now was not the time for that. He pointed into the main bedroom.

Her hopes dashed completely without a word spoken, Riona ran to the door of the bedroom. The bed was rumpled, her family was all there, and her father was…

She barely had a moment for the sad tableau to imprint into her memory when her sister turned at the movement at the door. With a loud gasp and a sob, Bethany was on her feet and had buried her head in Riona’s shoulder. With an ease that came from a lifetime of knowing her sister, of loving her, Riona’s arms came around and held her, burying her own head in Bethany’s hair and for one tiny moment allowing herself to believe the one truth she hadn’t thought to live again.

She was home.

Carver had slumped on a seat and it was obvious that, before running to Riona, Bethany had been huddled next to him. Meanwhile her mother was sat on the edge of the bed. She had her father’s hand in her own and her eyes were red and wild looking. She looked up as Riona had come into the room but didn’t move towards her.

Riona walked over to Carver first, the boy who refused to let his older sister near him when she left. The twins had to be twenty now, or twenty one, the same age she had been when she left. She stopped a foot from him and he looked up. He hadn’t been crying but he was pale and his face looked scared, lost. He had grown in the years she’d been gone but right at that moment he seemed like a scared boy. Riona put a hand on his head and stood closer to him, leaning against him even as he laid his head back against her stomach.

She didn’t have anything she could say and they stayed in that pose for a moment, solidarity where words were hopeless. Next Riona walked to the bed, standing by her mother when she drew in a shuddering breath. They hadn’t covered her father’s face yet. Whether that was out of respect for her she didn’t know. She hadn’t been there, but she didn’t think she could stand it if it had been a matter of moments between him walking to the Maker’s side and her returning to herself again.

So she looked down at his face, and stood next to her mother. The greyness at his temples she remembered him bemoaning, that it made him look like a distinguished senate, had grown further to give a peppered look.

It seemed a strange thing to be frustrated by, but in the stillness of his face she couldn’t tell whether his frown lines had deepened or if he had gained any more laughter lines, like those she remembered tracing as a little girl in his arms. She didn’t know the stories she had missed or the things she could or should have been there to help with. And she would have been, if she hadn’t decided to go wandering off on a whim.

A whim her father had given her with his constant talk of land overseas. His travel before he met her mother. Tales that she wanted to relive and expand upon.

But the detail that caught her eye most about the change in her father’s face was the one thing that hadn’t changed in the years that had passed. The ghost of a smile and in that, she could see the most important thing she missed and that wasn’t her fault. She would have been back here, if it weren’t for Danarius.

Everything he had stolen, from Carver apparently growing into his body down to her father’s very last moments. It was his fault she hadn’t been here. She felt herself shaking as her fingers reached to touch her father’s sleeve. She couldn’t bring herself to make contact with his skin, though she couldn’t say whether her mother would let go of it yet.

It was difficult to let go but surely it was even more difficult not to say goodbye.

Her throat tightened and she couldn’t make a sound. Even if she were able, Riona couldn’t imagine what she would say. Her lip trembled and her vision became misty, fracturing. Then fingers touched her hand down at her side, and she felt someone come up behind her. Bethany’s arm was beside her. In one movement Riona spun around and she was hugging Beth, this time as tightly as her sister had clung onto her.

She didn’t want to move for some time. Despite the few tears that had filled her eyes, Riona felt a strange emptiness, an odd guilt that she wasn’t pouring with tears like she knew, distantly, women were meant to do in these situations.

Her sister and mother had clearly been crying but for some reason that wasn't what she wanted to do.

She was holding her sister for the first time in years, she stood in her father's room, in her family home. Or their most recent place they called home. And her mind wasn't here. She was thinking across land, back across the five years she hadn't been here.

It was her fault. She had chosen to leave and wander purely because she felt the need to explore. It had been her decision to go to Tevinter and she was strongly aware of the fact it had been her decision to follow Fenris back to Danarius' mansion.

She had certainly followed her own curiosity, but being swept into that cycle like she had been - meaning to leave, knowing she had to stay - it hadn't felt like a choice anymore. When she had been ready to leave, when it had reached that point that the time to head for home had come. That was the moment her choice was taken from her.

For that, she knew exactly who to blame.

It did nothing for her sorrow but the thought of Danarius, of their curse, filled her with a need for distraction. She felt she had t be doing…something right now. She extricated herself from Bethany and gave her sister a small smile. Even in that short moment, she caught her sister’s frown, immediately knowing something was wrong.

She needed to leave, the room was stifling, she was out of place with her emptiness amidst their shared grief.

She walked back out to the hallway with purpose in her stride but the dim light of the candles in the hallway weren’t enough to illuminate the darkness of her vision. Varric and the blonde man were still stood there, though their stances shifted towards her as she emerged.

"Hawke? I'm sorry, I know you did everything to get here." Varric said, looking at her with those sad, pitying eyes she couldn't stand to see. "I should have sent the letter earlier, as soon as there were signs but-"

"It's not your fault, Varric. I should thank you or I wouldn't have known... I wouldn't be here at all." She didn't want to hear it. Not now. Not from him. "Who's this?"

The blond man looked up in surprise at being acknowledged. He was clearly used to passing below notice and had been staring at something behind Riona when she took his attention. His eyes had a hollow look to them, he wasn't pitying her but seemed wrapped up in his own grief. She found it strange, that she didn't know him at all.

"Anders. I've heard so much about you." He said and reached out his hand.

"Hawke, you don't know Anders?" Varric looked confusedly between them.

"No. Should I?" Riona was hesitating to take the other man's hand, waiting for Varric to elaborate. Anders was looking vaguely confused himself and therefore unhelpful.

“I guess not.” Varric laughed between them and stepped forwards, as if he was overseeing grand introductions. “This is Anders, he’s a runaway from Fereldan who helped your father with his clinic downstairs. He’s been here since I got back and I guess I never asked when he himself arrived.”

Riona looked at the blond man more carefully then, a wistful smile almost touching her face. “You mean he finally got that idea in action? I’m glad he had you to help.” She took his hand with a grateful enthusiasm.

“Thank you. Malcolm is a generous man. Was. I—I’m sorry.” He trailed off and pulled his hand back from Hawke’s grip suddenly.

“I told him I’d help him with it when I got back. I don’t think he would have got anything going without help. It must have been you.” She assured him honestly. At least that explained why this stranger was here in the house, and why he looked just as distraught as any of those in the room she had just left. “I don’t know if you’ve been inside to say- but you’re welcome to go in if you wish.”

Anders shook his head slightly and immediately lifted his hands in front of him. “I couldn’t intrude on the family. It isn’t my place.”

“One thing my father always taught me,” Riona insisted, “was the family you chose can be as important as the ones you’re stuck with. You should go in if you want to.”

Anders gave her a grateful smile and she watched him give another, thoughtful look towards the master bedroom before her attention was drawn away by a low grumble.

She turned around and was immediately shocked at her own stupidity. Fenris and Cai were facing each other over the threshold of her room, Fenris inside dutifully protecting the room he’d never seen before, while Cai was challenging this intruder in her house. Neither were being clearly aggressive but there was a growl rumbling between them and Riona certainly couldn’t identify which of them it came from.

Thinking quickly, or not at all, she stepped between them, took Fenris by his ruff and firmly pushed him back into her room, then closed the door behind them both. She knew Cai would still be uncomfortably aware of the other ‘dog’ behind the door but it was the best she could do. The poor hound was only doing what he thought was right.

She reached out and stroked the top of Fenris’ head, he leant his head over for her to get him in just the right place. His head slowly leaned further towards her until he leaned entirely against her leg but Riona found herself distracted by the familiar walls behind him, the pictures. Her room, her house. For the first time since this had all started, since some time before their curse began even, Fenris didn't feel like her one place, her one reason to belong.

With a huge sense of guilt, she gave him a last pat on the head and stood up straight. He didn't make a noise but his eyes followed her. He watched as she moved to the door once more, warned him to stay, then stepped out and closed it behind her.

She turned to Varric and thought for a moment. “Varric, you came to know my father after you got back?” The dwarf nodded and she went on. “Please, I can’t ask Anders or my family to do it. Can you get the word out that it was a wasting sickness. And listen out, make sure there’s no word out there to darken my father’s memory. Tomorrow morning will be soon enough, when we can acceptably pretend that we alerted the appropriate authorities. And gossips.”

Varric nodded, he looked like he wanted to say something but equally could tell when he was dismissed. Instead he put his warm hand on her elbow and he gave her his apologies in a way she couldn’t brush off.

Shortly after she heard the passage door through the pantry close behind him, she saw Carver walk out of the room. “Carver, can you help?” She asked him.

“Of course,” he replied simply. He seemed different to how she remembered him, not least because of his easy willingness, no longer the little brother she had remembered but a man, grown so much in the time she hadn’t seen.

“You need to go to the chantry, see if there’s anyone still there. They need to be notified and come to bless the house. It you don’t find anyone, go back first thing in the morning.”

Despite the fact it was unlikely anyone would be at the chantry at this time, or if there were, they would likely pretend not to be, Carver seemed happy to be given anything to do and was almost ready to leave the house immediately if Anders hadn’t re-emerged from the bedroom and volunteered to accompany him. Similarly he was probably quite keen to leave this house. Once her brother and the mage had left, she made herself go back into the bedroom.

She avoided looking at the stillness in the bed. Bethany looked up as she entered. Her mother did not.

“Beth, help me clear up these lyrium bottles.” She said numbly and Bethany responded almost automatically. Together they silently cleared all evidence of magic use from the bedroom and checked the rest of the house, just in case a Chantry sister did show up that night.

The house was not as neat as any other in their part of Hightown might have respectably been. They had lived in this estate only a few years when the Amell's servant had grown too old to work and Malcolm had insisted that they didn't hire a new one. There were plenty of people living in the house to accomplish anything that needed to be done, he had assured his wife's parents. It had definitely not been the first thing the Amells frowned on him for and neither was it the last.

Bethany decided she would go downstairs to make something for them to eat and Riona followed her, idly clearing as she went, finding anything in the house she could straighten out or keep her hands busy with. Better that than be left with the blank inability of her mind to feed her any emotions over the evening. When her sister complained yet again at her tidying something that Bethany had only just taken out of a cupboard to use, Riona wandered out to the rest of the house, to widen her tidying to anything she found out of place. All the while, Cai had been trailing at her heels, another reason Bethany had encouraged her out of the kitchen.

She had been in the pantry and made her way to the library upstairs when she heard Carver return alone. She continued in the task she had set herself until she walked back down to the study.

It wasn’t pain or sadness that reached Riona first, in that black night. Instead, what roused her from the state of numbness she wallowed in was the something silver that caught her eye where it hadn’t before and she looked with horror on the polished Templar armour sat on a chair in the corner of the room. Without thinking, she had moved to rip the chest plate from the suit, disregarding the jarring clash as other pieces were hurled onto the floor.

Then she marched into the kitchen where she placed Carver and Bethany’s voices, the Templar crest on display in front of her.

“What is this? What happened? Did one of them come here?” She spoke each question in rapid succession, mind scrambling for an explanation that wasn’t the terrible conclusion she had drawn. That they had discovered her father and Bethany. Instead, the twins looked at each other and Riona struggled to interpret the expressions on their faces. She brandished the chest plate again, demanding an answer, and soon.

“Well actually—.” Bethany started hesitantly.

“It’s mine.” Carver spoke over her. “I joined the Templars.” He brought his eyes to meet hers and she waited for a punchline. But Carver had never been one for jokes.

Rage. That was the first thing Riona felt, lighting through her blood and immediately revitalising her.

“Carver, tell me you pulled a sense of humour out of your ass while I was away. A pissing bad one, but it’s a joke, yes?” She knew the answer before she spoke and she dropped, or threw, the offending armour down by her side. “Of all the nugshit crazy ideas you’ve had, this one is the prize turd. What were you thinking? Is this some stupid act of rebellion? That’s what it always is with you.”

Bethany made a couple of gestures as if to cut Riona off but she continued exploding at her brother.

“Have you thought that there’s a reason we keep away from the Templars? Did you even think about your family at all before doing the stupidest thing you could imagine?”

“Actually I did.” Carver finally shouted back and his equally enraged voice at least was loud enough to momentarily be heard. He quickly continued before Riona could. “In case you didn’t realise, life went on back here while you were gone. “I grew up and I’m not your kid brother any more. I got a job and guess what, _all_ I did was think about my family. I was here supporting them. And now I know any time there are leads about apostates to be looked into, I know when they’re planning a raid through Darktown – right next to Dad’s clinic, if you even knew about that.”

Carver was ready to give back as good as he got, no more stridently than he ever had before, but his words were sharp. Their truth cut her to the quick.

He was absolutely right that she had been missing. She had only found out about the clinic in the past few hours, she didn’t know how long it had been running. And Carver had been the one stepping up, making a brave decision to put himself in an undoubtedly risky situation. All while she had been away. She suddenly wasn’t sure what had been said before she got here. What had Fenris told them and how long had he been here.

She couldn’t bear to ask how close she had been to seeing her father. She knew it was a thought that would haunt her for many years to come.

“You know I couldn’t come back?” She wasn’t sure but by Bethany’s softening expression Riona got the impression they did know, at least part of the story. Carver didn’t budge at all, even as she thought she might try to diffuse the situation. “I would have been here if I could have been.”

“You’re here now. So what was stopping you?” Carver demanded and now Riona fought to keep her temper down, at the same time Bethany said his name softly, warningly.

“I was- I’ve been-” Again she saw Bethany’s face, the subtle nod that she understood while Carver continued glaring. “Fenris already told you this, didn’t he?”

Carver only narrowed his eyes, daring her to give her excuses.

“You think I could come back to town like this? No one would notice that I was never there during the day. Of course not, who’d ever expect to talk to me during daylight. Not to mention the fact that we were staying away in order to keep a crazed magister from turning his revenge on all of you!”

“And whose fault is it that you got mixed up with him in the first place? You just had to go have your stupid adventure or whatever halfway across the world.”

“You’re blaming me?” She spat back.

“I only asked. Because right now it looks like it’s either you to blame, or that elf-creature you’ve dragged back home!” Carver shouted and Riona didn’t have a moment to think. She picked a wooden chopping board from the table in the middle of the room and threw it towards her brother. He sidestepped and hit it out of the way with impressive reflexes while Bethany quickly exclaimed “Riona!”

“You will not say that, ever again. You will not think that! You will not even look at Fenris. I can’t- I need to get out of here.” Riona muttered.

“Riona, you can’t go out there now. What are you going to do?” Bethany stepped past Carver and put a hand to her arm, attempting to appeal to Riona’s sense.

“I’m going somewhere away. I just need to think… outside this house.” She said and turned on her heel to stride purposefully across the hallway. On her way past the door she grabbed the first cloak she saw and pulled it around herself. Then she was out in the street, the cooler air of coastal Kirkwall making her glad that habit had made her reach for the warmer layer.

Then her feet were carrying her, across the square, past the empty, ghostly marketplace and down the stairs. She didn’t plan where she was going but found herself reaching one of her old haunts. It was a familiar rooftop, in front of an abandoned house and had a great view over the top of the steep slope of Kirkwall, the rooftops stacked below her down to the glittering waters of the Waking Sea. An almost full moon was near the mountains of the far side of the ocean inlet. Either rising or setting, she wasn’t sure. She hadn’t been keeping track recently.

A chilled breeze stung her face and she pulled the cloak further around her shoulders, burrowing her nose beneath the fabric.

Suddenly, it was ten years ago, when the Hawkes had just moved to Kirkwall and Riona was complaining about the cold sea air when the winter came around. She remembered her father laughing at her ability to weather a Ferelden winter but the breeze in the north upset her. Then he had opened his cloak and pulled her into his side underneath it.

She had grabbed his cloak on the way out of the house and now she could smell him, feel him wrapped around her like he was there again. Finally, on that windy rooftop, looking out over the familiar city with her senses strongly overwhelmed by thoughts of her father, Riona found the tears began to flow.

Every moment she had experienced, every moment she had missed. She wept for her father, her mother, her family. For Fenris, as the moon disappeared and the night grew impossibly dark, save for the few oil street lamps that gave a flickering light. As she wept for the people she felt deserved her sorrow, she found her tears finally ran dry as her thoughts turned to herself.

When she thought of everything she had suffered, she no longer felt sad. Nor did she feel the fiery anger she had when she saw Carver’s armour and realised his dangerous occupation. Instead she felt an icy hatred, a deeper longing to see their justice finally carried out. A certainty that Danarius would die for what he had done.

It was only when she heard movement in the house behind that she made herself move from her position. The house she had thought abandoned had been moved into – just another slight shift from the familiar comforts she thought she knew, added onto the long list that Danarius would pay for.

Still, her feet knew the dark streets well enough to find her way home - though she noticed more people lurking in the shadows then she remembered usually being on the streets - and she let herself back into her house silently. As she walked up the stairs, a voice at the door of the main bedroom made her look up and she saw her mother there.

“I thought you weren’t coming back.” Leandra said simply and Riona saw her mother’s eyes staring back at her.

“Of course I had to come back. You should go to sleep, Mother.” She replied and headed to her own bedroom. As soon as she opened the door, there was a wolf nose at her leg and she didn’t know if he had been sleeping as he usually would at night, or waiting for her.

All she knew was that as she pushed him back inside with soft words, she heard her mother mutter quietly, “That’s why you came back.” It could have been accusation or acceptance.

Putting those dark thoughts out of her mind, Riona allowed herself to sleep earlier than usual in the early hours of the morning, purely so she could remember climbing into her own bed once more.

>>><<>><<>><<>><<< 

The next evening, Riona learned that when the Chantry Mother came by earlier to give final blessings to her father’s body, they had explained Fenris’ presence by passing him as an elven servant.

“Fenris is not a servant! How dare you…” She cried furiously and the wolf at her side, sensing her distress, flattened his ears and bared his teeth. The mabari in the corner answered with a growl. Only Riona’s presence allowed them to be in the same room without defending their mutual charge from each other. As it was, they were barely tolerating each other.

“Of course not, Ri. It wasn’t like that.” Bethany had been next to her but had backed away when the animals had started snarling at each other. “He—Cai, stop it! Fenris said it himself.”

Riona drew back a little at that. “It was his idea?”

“He said he only wanted to draw as little attention as possible. I asked him about it after Grand Cleric Elthina left.” Her sister soothed and carefully stepped closer again. Fenris seemed to allow it and she settled back on the opposite arm of the chair. So Riona decided now was as good a time as any to tell them her plan, given that tensions were already high.

“You didn’t tell her I was back, did you?” She started and this time looked to her mother.

“No. After the elf lied, we decided not to confuse the story anymore than it already was.” Again, Riona struggled to decipher her mother’s tone but didn’t follow it up.

“You don’t want us to tell her.” Carver said instead, his tone clearly annoyed.

“Oh Riona, please don’t tell me you’re going to do something stupid?” Bethany pleaded and her hand was suddenly clutching Riona’s free hand that wasn’t in Fenris’ fur.

“We need to leave.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” Her sister moaned and pulled her hand into her lap.

“This should be a shorter trip.” She reassured, unsure of the truth even as she said it. “But I have to leave soon. I think Fenris should get us out tomorrow.”

“Catriona, don’t be ridiculous. You will miss your own father’s funeral.” Her mother admonished and this time her voice was unmistakeably annoyed, as if she were telling a child that they were being foolish.

“Why do you think it needs to be tomorrow?” Riona felt her temper grow at her patronising manner. “I’m going to miss it anyway, unless you can convince a town of fiercely suspicious mage haters to hold a funeral after dark. No, I’d rather not sit around and know I’m missing something I so desperately would be at.”

“You don’t know that…”

“I haven’t forgotten what this city’s like while I was away. There’s no chance. I’d rather know that I’m doing something that needs to be done, rather than sitting around miserable and useless. I’ll say goodbye when my job is done.” As the words left her mouth she wondered whether she would be back, if she could be after setting herself such an impossible task. However she grit her teeth and looked challengingly at the people gathered in front of her. She knew most of all that if she stayed around to see her father’s body burned, she might not be able to leave him.

Something of her hesitation must have shown in Riona’s eyes though, because she felt the quick tightening of Bethany’s grip around her hand. She couldn’t look at her sister, in case she gave something more away of her plan.

Given it was still relatively early, Riona didn’t much want to stay around in the house arguing much longer. So she headed for the door again, as quickly as she could extricate herself. It was as she headed for the shadows of the courtyard once more, in case a busybody neighbour might recognise her face, that Riona almost tripped over a small elf coming around a corner at the same time. The elf squeaked in surprise and Riona caught herself smiling in recognition.

“Merrill? What are you doing here?” She caught the elf’s shoulders before she could reach defensively for the conspicuous staff on her shoulder.

“Oh Hawke, it’s you. What perfect timing! I was heading for your estate. At least I was if I read Varric’s directions properly. I don’t think I‘ve been in this part of town at all.” She said and held a small map out in her hands, as if for Hawke to check her directional skills.

“So far so good. But unless you and my brother have a secret fling going, I’m guessing you wanted to find me anyway?” Merrill nodded and allowed Riona to start moving them back the way she had been coming.

Riona found them a quiet nook in the market place where they could talk, and also keep their back safely against the wall on this black Kirkwall night. Then she asked Merrill what she had wanted to tell her.

“It’s about you - and Fenris, really - but I guess you can’t walk him through the town, even in the middle of the night. I guess he wasn’t much made for stealth. Anyway, I know you’ve probably tried it but I was hoping you’d consider letting me have a go at fixing your problem, with magic?” She suggested quietly, peering up at Riona hesitantly as she did so.

“Merrill, you know I don’t mind magic. My father ran a clinic and it wasn’t black market herbs he was using. Okay, it partly was but that wasn’t the main reason they were underground.” She smiled and was glad to see the elf laugh in response, though her face rapidly fell to looking sombre once more.

“I thought you might say that but there’s a little more to it that I thought you’d be less accepting about.” She glanced up at Riona, who only looked back blankly. “My magic isn’t like most other people’s magic.”

“Is this an elf Dalish thing?” Riona suggested and grew more confused when Merrill shook her head.

“No, not necessarily. I thought it might be better to ask you first rather than Fenris but I just don’t know. Oh, this would be much easier if I could talk to both of you at the same time.”

“I know the feeling.” Riona added dryly. “Come on Merrill, tell me whatever it is you’re not saying.”

“Well, okay but just, promise you’ll hear me out first.” Merrill made a quick movement with her hands and then pulled them back to her side with some conscious effort. “So, the magic that cast this on you was a very specific kind of magic.” As soon as she started talking, her hands flew together seemingly of their own accord and she began wringing them in front of her stomach.

“Magister magic.” Riona supplied.

“Well, yes. But I wanted to say that I think the only way, or the best way, to undo it would be through the same type of magic. I want to have a go and see if I can make it work.”

And in as many words as physically possible, Merrill had made her point.

“You mean you can do… you’re a blood mage?” Riona tried to control the stab of fear in her voice but the look of answering terror on the elf’s face showed that she hadn’t exactly succeeded. The mirrored reaction on Merrill’s face was not much comfort. Especially as it wasn’t denial of the fact. “I wouldn’t have expected that of you.” Riona failed to hide the coolness in her voice and Merrill noticeably cringed but straightened up and took on a defensive demeanour.

“It’s not what people think, I know what I’m doing.” She argued. “And it’s more powerful, meaning that only equally powerful magic will be able to undo that curse he put on you.”

“Merrill, I…”

“Really, Hawke. I really do believe I can help. Even if you just let me try something, to see if I can work it out.”

“I don’t know.” Riona stalled, thinking of a good way to get herself away from here, quickly.

“I wouldn’t do it without your permission, of course. But I want to help.”

“I appreciate it Merrill.” The elf looked at her sceptically and she tried to look supportive. “I do. But if _I’m_ not sure, how do you think you would convince Fenris to go along with that plan. You’ve already told me he’s not much of a fan of yours, at any time of the day.”

“No, you’re right. Still, I wish you’d think about it.”

“I will. But right now I have somewhere I need to be.” She lied and looked pointedly at the elf.

“Oh, of course. I’m sorry. If you change your mind, let me know.” Merrill replied in a slightly disheartened tone.

“I would, but I don’t think I’ll be in town that much longer.” She said, starting to walk away, towards the steps on the other side of the market but unfortunately Merrill followed, prolonging what had quickly become an uncomfortable conversation.

“You won’t? Oh, I thought this was you coming home. When will you be leaving?” Merrill pressed and Riona thought quickly.

“I can’t tell you that, it’s best to keep our plans quiet I think, especially now we’re somewhere Danarius knows I might go.” She warned, hoping Merrill would take the hint to leave.

“I understand. It makes sense. Well, I’m happy to help any way I can. It’s awfully boring staying in one place like this all the time, don’t you think.”

“You know Merrill, I’ve reached the point where I’d quite like a bit of boring.” She sighed and at that point Merrill smiled and made a noise of agreement.

“I guess you probably do, after everything you’ve been through.” She said but mercifully stayed quieter after that, though she stayed at Riona’s side through the streets until they were almost in Lowtown.

“I have a shortcut back to the alienage Hawke, but please tell …someone if you do reconsider. Otherwise, I won’t say anything more about it.” Merrill offered one last time, hopeful and helpful as ever. Riona tried not to feel relieved as the small elf walked away.

But she had always been taught that blood mages were the weak and the naïve ones who didn’t learn how to say no and that’s how mages became abominations. It somehow didn’t seem such a surprise Merrill had fallen to the foolish side and used dangerous blood magic but at the same time she didn’t seem the kind of power hungry villain Riona’s own fears had confirmed when she had travelled to Tevinter and met the magisters there. In fact, as Riona heard Merrill humming cheerfully down the alley she had taken, the elf still seemed incredibly naïve to what she might be at risk of.

Wanting a good distraction to remove all thought of these horror stories she had been raised on, Riona turned back on her way to the small inn she knew Varric frequented. Though not one of the one’s she’d had the chance to enter often, Riona certainly recognised this part of town.

She came to the door with the unmistakeable wooden sign swinging from the eaves of the house down to almost the top of the door. Then, in case anyone in there might recognise her, she pulled her hood up around her face and slipped inside.

It took some searching around the room before she finally gave up and asked the barman where she might find Varric but the owner pointed her up a set of stairs at the back of the room and into one of the suites he had up there. Wondering if she should have made an appointment to meet her friend, Riona bought a beer and took it up the stairs with her, gingerly knocking at the dwarf’s door. As both a warning as well as to announce her presence but there was no more than the sound of boots on a wooden floor that Riona could hear on the other side.

Then the door was swung open and Varric was looking up at her in wary confusion before he recognised her face under the hood.

“Hawke? This is a welcome surprise. You finally found your way to the delights of the Hanged Man, then.”

“It entirely lives up to my expectations.” She admitted to him, walking into the small chamber as Varric stepped aside to make room. “I came to tell you we’re leaving.”

“Leaving? But your family. The funeral?” Varric looked at her for only a moment before the confusion shifted from his face and faster than the rest of her family had realised, he nodded. “You can’t stay. And you aren’t here for small talk.”

Riona might have laughed, at another moment, at the ease with which Varric read her. “Sometimes I worry what things you told Fenris that I never actually told you.” She looked at him grin slyly and rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure why I came, only I needed out the house and then I found myself here.”

“I’m glad. There’s someone you need to see, and you might have missed him if you hadn’t turned up here.” Varric so smoothly directed her to this part of conversation, she couldn’t imagine he would have planned an evasive answer any better. “When do you think you’ll be going?”

“I planned to pass the news to Fenris to make our way tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? So soon? Fine, but come with me tonight? Provided you don’t have any other plans?”

“What plans do you expect I can have, I’m practically locked in my prison as long as I’m here until someone can come up with a plausible excuse why I’m only seen at night.”

“Crippling hangover? Especially if you spend the night at the bar here. The beer may taste of horsepiss, but I’ve seen it render plenty of people useless for a good half a day.”

“I really hope that’s not what you wanted to show me.” She said as they made their way through the bar area, but they continued to the main door.

“Not this time. And you said you were in a hurry, Hawke. Shame on you, getting distracted by booze.” He teased.

“I know, I can’t even say its’s a good distraction. You know that place is awful, Varric?” They were heading back through the streets Hawke had just taken, apparently back to Hightown as Varric made for the steps.

“Of course I do. Why do you think that’s where I set up home? Where else could I find out everything that’s going on?” Varric replied quite proudly.

“There’s plenty of gossip in Hightown too.” Riona felt the need to defend her own gossip gathering.

“There’s always gossip, it’s knowing how to get the information you _need_.”

“I would argue for the efforts of my youth in this city. I knew plenty of what was going on from my own sources.”

Varric looked over at Riona appraisingly. “Perhaps you did. Maybe we could compare our sources sometime.” He seemed willing to concede. “Even if you were hardly a youth when you came to Kirkwall.”

“I was young _er_ than I am now.” Riona joked as they climbed and crossed the courtyard once again at the base of the Viscount’s Keep.

Riona faltered only when Varric led her to the base of the Chantry. “The person you wanted me to meet is here? I’m sorry to ruin your hopes Varric, but I’m not planning on repenting for my sins.”

Varric let out a low chuckle as he began climbing the stairs. “It’s funny you should say that.”

After that he refused to give anymore away, leading Riona into the Chantry until they finally found a man sitting alone in quiet contemplation at the far corner of the building. He looked up in surprise at the intrusion and Riona spent a few moments looking at him in vague recognition.

“Riona! Or… I should say, Serah Hawke.” He stumbled out in his familiar accent.

“Why would you say that?” She asked in bewilderment, her mouth doing the talking before her brain could work out what the correct response was meant to be. “Sebastian, hello! What are you doing here?”

The Starkhaven prince smiled at her as she moved forwards and wrapped her arms around him eagerly yet belatedly.

“I’m glad to see you too.”

“But you’re here. In Kirkwall. You’re supposed to be in Starkhaven, or a tavern, or somewhere totally unbefitting your new wardrobe.” She only connected what he was wearing as she stepped away from him again. “Why are you dressed as a Chantry brother?”

“Because that’s what I am. I swore myself to the service of Andraste.”

“…Everything included?”

“Everything.” Sebastian frowned at the suggestive smirk she gave him and Riona quickly pulled it back, reassessing the man in front of her.

“I feel there are a few things I need to be filled in on here.” She finally surmised and Sebastian nodded, with a small, secretive smile.

"Of course. I'll be glad to fill you in." He held out his arm to her and she cocked her head in silent query at him. "There are many things I've been hoping to tell you."

Riona hesitantly took his arm, still fully taken aback by the change in the man she had met those years ago. He had slicked his hair back, he looked clean and collected and he was acting in a positively gentlemanly manner. Unhelpfully, Varric kept a smug grin on his face at her surprise but would give her no further help in response to her pointed looks.

"First and foremost, I wish to thank you Riona. Meeting you and Fenris, it changed my life. I wouldn't be here today if you hadn't let me in on your world and the struggles you were-"

"Are." She was quick to correct.

"-are facing." Sebastian assented with little reaction.

"And you want to thank me for this?" Riona was trying to see the man she had met behind this straight laced, completely sober front he had on. Meanwhile he led her along the back wall of the chantry and into one of the main alcoves where shelves of heavy and dry looking tomes were stacked.

"Of course! Your story inspired me, knowing there was such purpose in your life, something you really lived for. All the while I was wandering aimlessly from tavern to tavern, only waiting to see how long it took for them to throw me out."

"Our purpose? Sorry, Sebastian, but it sounds like you got your stories crossed. We were wandering just as aimlessly as you, all we wanted was to avoid being caught by angry Vints." She heard Varric give a low laugh behind her, presumably at her irreverent curse in the Chantry.

"I didn't mean your physical quest. I meant the purpose you had found in life, your dedication to each other." He said it so earnestly, laid it out as if it were the most obvious thing in the world that Riona couldn't convince herself he was joking. He said it as if he were uncertain she even realised the depth of her feelings for Fenris. She knew, achingly well, but to hear someone else suggest it was so clear, someone they had spoken to over no more than a couple of nights was something else. She wondered what signs he could even have picked up on, when he had never seen them physically together at all.

Nor had Varric, the thought suddenly struck her. Or any of her family. For just a moment the absurdity of the situation truly dawned on her. Yet people accepted them at their words, because they must have seen something there.

Then, as usual, she put a smile on her face and looked back at Sebastian.

"I definitely don't think that's a good enough reason to turn your back on all the highlights of life you enjoyed." She joked, knowing it would fall flat even as she said it. She was fairly certain Chantry people had the humour cauterised out of them. A sad waste in this case.

"Quite the opposite. You showed me there is more to life than that. I had nothing there for me as the third heir of the family, I needed to find my own life. So I finally listened to my father and the advice I had been brushing off for years. I turned to Andraste to find my place." The Starkhaven prince was watching her reactions with a small smile. Only, she didn't know quite how she was meant to be reacting.

"That's...good. Good for you." She smiled and narrowly stopped herself from giving him a jovial punch on the arm. That would likely lessen the sincerity of her statement. Then Sebastian's smile widened and Riona felt like once again, she was missing something. He looked far too pleased.

"Of course, it was my choice to come to the Chantry _here_ in Kirkwall. Did you know there is the greatest supply of tomes and knowledge on Tevinter magic in the Free Marches, right here in this city? All remnants of the Imperium occupation in ages past."

"You look far too smug for a servant of Andraste. I'm sure there are rules about you being demure and eschewing all feelings or something." Riona subtly invited him to get on with telling her what he was hiding.

"Controlled perhaps, but not emotionless." Sebastian raised an eyebrow mockingly in return. "What I'm trying to tell you is that I came here in order to keep my promise to you. I pledged to serve Andraste, but I pledged myself to you and Fenris first. As the first solemn oath I gave in my life, I intended to keep it and," He seemed to barely be able to contain his excitement, "I think I have."

"You lost me at the sassy eyebrow. I'm sure that's not allowed under your vow.”

“I’m glad to see you haven’t changed, Hawke.” Sebastian laughed. “Genuinely, there are many who would have lost your spark after what you’ve been through.”

“You’re talking in the past tense again.” Riona pushed, her irritation rising at the way he seemed to insist on acting like everything was better now.

“That is rather my point.” Sebastian said and leaned past her to reach a book from the shelf beside them. It was far larger than any sensible book needed to be and wrapped in high quality, dark leather. The front was inscribed with strange Tevinter looking symbols. “I’ve followed a lot of wrong leads and it has taken me most of the years since I last saw you but…I think I’ve found a way to free you of this curse. Both of you.”

Riona looked at him steadily, for longer than any normal stare was meant to go on and Sebastian began to shift uncomfortably before turning back to his book once more and flicking through some more pages to a bookmarked page.

“Here, from all the signs you told me and the type and timings of the magic, it looks like it’s a type of, well what the Tevinters called tempus praelux.” Sebastian read carefully and looked at Riona carefully, as if the words might mean something to her. She looked back perplexedly.

“So it has a name. That’s great. I can impress Danarius with your studying skills while I stab him through the heart.”

“No, no! You mustn’t kill him, or you will have no hope whatsoever of ending the curse. No, there is a way but you must listen to me carefully. His magic was powered by the sun, as you already know.”

“I’m pretty certain it’s powered by slave blood.”

“Yes, he used that as his connection to the power, to draw from the Fade, but he keeps it going with the power of the sun’s energy, which is why it changes at sunrise and sunset when the Veil ripples at it’s thinnest. That’s why some people say you can even catch a glimpse of the Fade on the horizon at the moment the sun goes down.”

“Forgive me for not noticing, the last few years I’ve been a little preoccupied around sunset.”

“Hawke.” Sebastian let more than just a hint of exasperation colour his tone and Riona smirked at him, gesturing back at the book with a flourish for him to continue. “Thank you. The point is, you are cursed so that you are yourself at night, and he is himself during the day.”

“You got all this from your books?” Riona muttered sarcastically but subsided at Sebastian’s look.

“Here, there is such a magic. But the effects can be reversed. What you must do is confront him, both of you in the flesh and his curse will no longer hold power over you.” Sebastian spoke as if this was the revelation to end their troubles and Riona narrowed her eyes at him.

“I don’t believe this. One crazy proposal after another tonight. Blood magic, then this. Or have you forgotten, your magic solution is impossible.”

“Impossible when there is a night and a day, yes.”

“Great, glad that’s sorted.” She said slowly, stressing the finality in her tone. “Let’s get on with our unhappy lives and, hopefully, forget this whole conversation.”

“Hawke, listen. There are predictions, charts, talk of patterns.”

“I’m getting seriously concerned for your sanity now.”

“There will be a day without a night! A night without a day! The signs, if my calculations are correct, tell us it will happen next month. Kingsway 31 Dragon. That is when you must confront Danarius for this entire curse to be finished. Then, you’ll be able to live your lives, together.”

Riona was ready to object again, until Varric spoke up for the first time since he had brought her to the chantry brother.

“You said you were going to leave anyway, Hawke. All Choirboy here is saying is that you are right on target.”

“I know, I get what he’s saying. I just…” She looked between the two of their hopeful faces, studying her own and she pulled her gaze away. “I can’t do this right now. I can’t deal with you giving me hope when there is none.”

She reached out and closed the book lying on the table between them. Then in a quick movement she turned and was making her way down the steps to the ground level of the Chantry. Running away again.

“Hawke!” She heard both of them start following but she didn’t look back. Let them come, just let them have this conversation somewhere that wasn’t the stuffy, too quiet Chantry.

They caught up with her outside, as she leaned against the wall halfway down the steps of the grand building. As soon as she had come out into the fresher air, it felt like her mind was working more comfortably again. She noticed the quick scatter of people around the base of the steps as she had emerged, the poor and lowly people on the streets that had turned to any means of making a quick sovereign for a decent meal. Again she wondered at the number of people on the streets of Kirkwall, more than she remembered certainly. There were times in the past few years she and Fenris had been no better off than them.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do Sebastian. You’ve clearly gone to a lot of effort in your work but this can’t help us.” She started when they were within earshot. She did not mean to cut off the discussion entirely, just get out of the echoing halls. “It’s just cruel, false hope.”

“It’s not! I have checked and double checked. This is the only description of your type of magic I have found, an ancient type of magic, and the only cure that makes sense.”

“But it doesn’t make sense! A day without a night? What kind of crap is that because after my long, ongoing experience of the cycle of days, I’m pretty certain night always comes when there’s no day.” She could see the disappointment on their faces and was more annoyed than anything. Wasn’t this meant to be her disappointment? “And one last thing. Don’t mention this to Fenris. Don’t treat him like that.”

“Hawke, I think you should-” Varric began, in his most reasonable tone which made her blood boil in that moment.

“Varric, if you wouldn’t mind I just have one thing I want Fenris to know.”

A moment’s begrudging pause while Varric looked up at her, then he smiled tightly. “You know me, I’ve always passed on your exact words faithfully.”

Riona resisted the urge to comment on his obvious baiting. “We’re leaving tomorrow and we’re heading north. I don’t know whether he’ll see us coming but I want Fenris to know we will have this one thing. We will see Danarius die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, even if it was still not that much lighter than the last one.
> 
> I was making excellent progress this chapter because of all the lovely (sometimes pained) responses I got from the last chapter heheh, sorry to keep you hanging on that. Sadly i've been feeling lousy all week so it threw me right back again and it took longer than I liked to finish this chapter up. Anyway, thanks for reading and now I can tell you, just one more chapter to go! (and probably an epilogue after that) 
> 
> Thanks for following along with me this far. It means more than I can say


	12. Night Without Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time to act was upon him.
> 
> The doors swung inwards at his heavy thrust and he stepped into the richly draped chamber.
> 
> “Danarius.” He growled and unfailingly his eyes found the man sat at the end of the room, watching him expectantly.
> 
> “Ahh, my little wolf. So you return to me at last.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said this would be the last chapter, and it is! But rest assured, there is an epilogue in the works. For now, enjoy this monster of a chapter and I hope you enjoyed the journey I took these guys on.

Fenris had not been on the road a whole day before he realised there was someone behind him. He slowed his pace deliberately and they slowed theirs. He took a winding detour around a less steady looking path and the person followed expertly on a slightly different path that trailed him just as well. Eventually he sped up his pace again and the pursuer kept at a reasonable, if slightly slower pace after him.

Just as Fenris wondered if it was feasible to keep this pace up in order to lose their follower, with the likely outcome of wearing himself out after his good few days rest in the city, the hawk let out a cry and he turned to see her gliding swiftly towards the other person. He hoped she would be just offensive enough to make the hunters think twice.

Except there were no angry or pained shouts from behind. He stopped to listen more closely, turning only to see the hawk swooping leisurely over the heads of the still approaching forms. More than one.

“Varric?” It wasn’t long before the figures were within hearing range and Fenris had recognised them long before that. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, just out for a casual stroll. You know how I like to jog at uncomfortable speeds.” Varric grouched. Sebastian grinned with a slightly more apologetic look, while Merrill looked only slightly confused.

“Varric, I thought you said Fenris knew about us coming?” The Dalish elf ventured out, eyes quickly widening at the scowl her comment put on Fenris’ face.

“Coming where? You’re not all following us to Minrathous.” Fenris denied immediately.

“Apparently, it slipped his mind.” Sebastian said with a shake of his head while Varric looked proudly unapologetic.

“This isn’t your fight. Hawke would have told me you were coming.” Fenris argued, but even as he thought it through Varric had been the one who had arrived that morning with Hawke’s message and had told Fenris the sudden plan to move on, one that Fenris had been more than happy to comply with. That itch under his skin, the nagging feeling that he had to be doing something to claim back his life had been growing, ever stronger since he had arrived in Kirkwall. To hear Hawke planning to turn back to where it started, it had felt like a piece fitting into place. The final step. And Varric hadn’t mentioned a hunting party.

“As simple as it would have made things to assure you that I had discussed this with Hawke last night and she was totally on board, I made a promise to my friend. So unfortunately I had to keep her word intact.” Varric met Fenris’ gaze squarely and he replied with a tight jawed nod. Varric was trustworthy, he did what he promised.

“That doesn’t explain why you think you’re following me.”

“No, well. There’s the trickier part. Hawke didn’t tell me not to come, but she sort if implied this would be a solo mission.”

“Or a duo mission, I suppose.” Merrill suggested, pointing at the bird making lazy figure of eights above their heads.

“See, Hawke wasn’t willing to listen to us last night, but we wanted to offer our help. Which you’re going to need.” Sebastian explained. “We thought you might be more reasonable.”

“You hope I’m more willing to listen to you than Hawke was? You must really be grasping at possibilities.” He was blunt, but the faces looking back at him proved that they weren’t going to change their minds. It was only a waste of time trying to make them.

He knew his realisation showed in his face when Varric cheerily grinned and hefted his pack to his shoulder again.

“Time to get to Minrathous.” He said.

“I can’t make you turn back, can I?” Fenris asked plainly. The others let the amusement show on their faces.

“We made up our minds before you even knew you were leaving.” Varric replied and Fenris directed the next at him.

“And you know that you have little to no hope of us all surviving.”

“That was rather why we came.” Sebastian replied enigmatically.

“We’re here to give you your best chance.” Merrill added and Fenris was made to look at her, a certain fierceness hidden behind her cheerful eyes. His fight was already lost and they all knew it.

“We walk at my pace.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” Varric complained predictably. Predictably, Fenris ignored him.

 “So, tell me why you’re wearing that. Isn’t that the southern Chantry symbol?” Fenris asked of Sebastian as they turned to walk.

“It is, the sword of Andraste. It’s the traditional clothing for brothers in the Kirkwall Chantry.”

“So, it was a disguise as part of your escape from the city?” He asked, with the suspicion that the oddest answer to his question would be the true one.

“No. No, it’s my clothing. I am a servant of Andraste, a brother under the Grand Cleric Elthina.” Sebastian replied, sincerely.

“You’re…not joking? That’s quite a change. I don’t think those clothes are going to be particularly practical for the road though. Especially not when we reach the lands of the Black Divine.”

“Yes, I had realised this. Don’t worry, I have a change of clothes. And armour. I came prepared.” Sebastian agreed amiably, as if he were setting off on an afternoon stroll, rather than a trek across the continent to the pit of deceit and forbidden magic that was Minrathous.

Fenris couldn’t help but wonder, musing on this strange band that he found himself with, how she managed to do it. What was it about Hawke that inspired this kind of loyalty in the people she met. Sebastian, he had been told by Varric that morning, had come to Kirkwall purely to aid them. He had stayed near her family and helped in what little way he could.

Varric hadn’t seen the two of them in years, and as far as Fenris knew, he and Hawke had parted on less amiable terms, but he had still ventured home, sought out her family and come to know them, looking out for them in Hawke’s stead. Merrill, most bafflingly, had known them only a matter of weeks, yet she followed willingly into the unknown.

There was one thing about Hawke he knew deeper than most. That was the complete loyalty she gave to others, the kind that could inspire such faith in those she offered the depth of her friendship.

So Fenris looked at the ragtag band that Hawke had drawn together and he smiled slightly.

“You’re making the right choice elf. Nothing is set in stone yet, and we don’t know how this is going to end.” Varric had managed to catch up with him.

“I suppose you’re right. I just also think Hawke’s right in that she wanted you to save yourselves and stay in Kirkwall.”

“So why did you let us come?”

“I couldn’t stop you following. And you told me Hawke was in trouble, in a bad place. I’m taking every chance I can to help her.” Fenris replied easily and looked down at Varric as he spoke, in time to see the flicker of surprise cross the other man’s face.

“You’ve changed, Elf.” The surprise turned into a flicker of mirth, and pride. “Time on your own was what you needed.”

Fenris opened his mouth to contest that he hadn’t been travelling alone, but closed it before the thought could properly form. He had been alone. A bird is no company for a man’s mind, even when he was studying reading and writing, under her steady golden gaze.

“If I made my own way, it was because I knew I had someone there to pick up the pieces afterwards.” Fenris allowed, only partly realising the strength Hawke’s back up had given him, even while he was left to do the talking and decision making during the daylight on his own.

“I’d say you did a lot more than that on your own.” Varric continued but Fenris was happy to leave it with a considering nod. Thinking back on how he had first met Varric, Fenris wondered when he had started to become more certain in following his own path. He had plenty of experience now, which he hadn’t when he first set out. But when had it become less an exercise of trying to predict Danarius’ movements and more the decision to turn left in the fork because that way he could see a river and personally wanted a change from walking through trees.

>>><<>><<>><<>><<< 

The next morning Fenris found them already up, there was no sign of a camp if they had made one and there was only a pause for breakfast before they started on their way again. The others seemed tense and Fenris felt obliged to ask what had happened.

“Early start. We’re not sure if Hawke was trying to shake us or it’s just her habit.”

Fenris eyed them critically, and it was long enough before he spoke that they became to twitch uncomfortably, realising their mistake.

“I thought Hawke knew.”

“Yes, I was going to get to that.” Varric began.

“She wasn’t in an excellent frame of mind when she left Kirkwall.” Sebastian also offered.

“I’m not sure we helped last night, either.” Merrill finished.

Fenris sighed. He looked at each one of them carefully, and noticed how they each uncomfortably looked away from his gaze.

“You didn’t argue with her over something, did you?” He asked.

“No, it wasn’t something like that. It was more a meeting of minds.” Sebastian was the one to talk, and Fenris raised an eyebrow at his use of words. He was quite used to Varric using fancy wording to cover up a lie. Sebastian obviously saw the doubt in his face when he scrambled to fill in his half answer. “We wanted to help, and we didn’t want to see her pushing people away.”

That wasn’t the Hawke he knew. Varric’s comment the previous day had left him musing on how he had changed since being forced to face life for himself. It had been some time since he put thought to what being alone might have done to Hawke.

He was again faced with his frequent concern. What if something had happened to her and he hadn’t been there, he had been too far from her to see it or stop it.

All the more reason for them to confront Danarius for what he had done, once and for all.

Whether Hawke approved of it or not, she had been foolish enough to face him alone once. This time, they had the help of the companions she had gathered. Only this time, it was Fenris who had to keep them together.

>>><<>><<>><<>><<< 

“Sebastian?” Merrill asked at some point later that second day.

“Yes, ahh, Merrill?”

“I was just wondering, when you said you had something less conspicuous to change into, is that what you meant?” Her voice carried across the distance between them and Fenris, who had also noted the brilliant white and gold of Sebastian’s armour, tried not to let his amusement show.

“I have more than one change of clothes with me.” It was the closest to peevish Fenris had heard the prince. “However, this is my armour, specially commissioned after I announced my decision to join the Chantry to my parents. It is a symbol of their favour and plus, I don’t much fancy being attacked by bandits on the road without it.”

“But…it’s awfully shiny. Doesn’t that make you a more obvious target?” She continued, while Fenris resisted the urge to point out that Merrill’s green armour would not do much for camouflage in the sandy desert of the wastelands that made up the majority of the journey before them.

“It was made in celebration of the Maker’s light, and his light is my armour. I am not afraid.” Sebastian replied, calm once more. At this point Fenris had to turn around, if just to get a better look at the man, so changed from the rogue who Fenris felt had practically assaulted them on the street those years ago. Back then, he had just seemed like a man who felt a little bad for their unfortunate story.

Perhaps it had been more than that, if Fenris had gathered anything from their version of events that had led to them leaving Kirkwall. Though Varric’s story had suspiciously trailed off before he explained why Sebastian had called Hawke to meet at the Chantry.

Their journey was slower than Fenris would have liked. With the extra chatter and fuss getting packed in the mornings, more frequent breaks during the day for tired legs and empty stomachs and a walking pace decidedly set to fit shorter legs than Fenris’ own, it was nothing like the pace Fenris had made from the Hunterhorns to Kirkwall. After almost a week, Fenris was sick of the Imperial Highway and another week later, he was near desperate to see something other than sand.

However, it was an entirely different experience travelling with a troupe of companions. They kept the idle talk flowing, creating a mostly calm, friendly atmosphere – at least when Varric diverted the topic away from the virtues of Andrastean beliefs or Elvhen gods.

Bandits were not uncommon. Fenris had at first argued that the Imperial Highway was too conspicuous a place to travel. However Varric had opposed his suggestion that they travel off the road and had been smug when it quickly become apparent that the paved route was the only viable trail through some parts of the wastelands between Kirkwall and Tevinter. However, this made it a prime spot for opportunistic ambushers to make an easy living from the merchants and harmless travellers that used the route frequently.

There was some small satisfaction in the fact these bandits were not expecting a small rag tag group of cloaked travellers to unleash deadly arrows, terror inducing magic and a huge blade wielded as if it were the weight of a short sword. Fenris knew he had to stop fearing every time that this was an ambush set specifically for him, but their group efforts were certainly making the road safer for anyone travelling in their wake.

Yet even as they walked, the three companions who had not been particularly acquainted before learnt more about each other and chatted more freely. All the while Fenris felt each step close a tighter cage around his chest. Fear and apprehension, an eagerness he hadn’t realised he could feel for this moment to come. Each day closer, and each day his feet felt more like they were heading in the right direction. An unstoppable fate.

Something else he had noticed was the often uncharacteristic behaviour of the hawk. On their previous stretches of travelling Fenris had grown accustomed to the bird sleeping on his arm or shoulder for most of the morning. He knew this was because Hawke often spent the night walking and would drift off in the early hours of the morning, presumably also when Fenris stopped to rest.

Now, she was much less eager to idly rest on his shoulder. Instead she seemed constantly in the air, swooping ahead and more than once startling ambushers out of their hideout long before the people on foot reached them.

She was constantly moving, much more agitated. It seemed sometimes that the only time he could draw her to him was when they stopped for a break and he offered her food. Fenris was only a little confused with how much he empathised with her. He felt the same agitation and it was not hard to imagine the turmoil in her head that might keep her feeling so restless it remained through the day, even transferring into her avian form.

>>><<>><<>><<>><<< 

“Elf, there’s something I need to tell you.” Varric turned to Fenris gravely, some time into their journey, when they were almost free of the desert and well on the way to Tevinter. Fenris frowned at him over his dried rabbit lunch. “Sebastian needs to be in on this too.” Varric went on and Sebastian immediately seemed to realise where the conversation was headed as he began nodding before anyone spoke again.

“Something serious?”

“It is. But even on top of that, Hawke didn’t want us to tell you.”

“Only, we had to. It’s for both of you to know.” Sebastian quickly backed up Varric in making his point. Fenris still wasn’t sure how he felt about the surprising casualness of them, if only because he himself was far from it.

“So Hawke knows?” He clarified.

“Yes.” Sebastian stated.

“No.” Varric countered and both Fenris and Sebastian gave him a querying look. “I don’t think Hawke was in any state of mind to be taking in what we were telling her.”

“Don’t underestimate her.” Fenris warned and Varric quickly shook his head.

“Believe me, I’m not. But I think you’ll agree that we shouldn’t be as quick to disregard Princeling’s research.”

“Research?” Fenris repeated.

“The reason I was in Kirkwall. I found your solution, but Hawke …it was too soon, she didn’t have time to process and she asked us not to tell you.”

Fenris narrowed his eyes at the biased way they were framing their concerns to him, though if they had given her news like this at the time he suspected they had, the evening she made the decision to leave, he had the feeling that perhaps their estimation of Hawke’s rashness was not entirely flawed. He had felt the despair in that house at the passing of Malcolm Hawke.

“Then tell me.” He charged them. And they explained to him the small glimmer of hope that the chantry brother had found, buried in the long forgotten archives of such an unlikely city. They explained the chance that this journey they were on was more than just a suicide mission. As their point became clear to him, he felt the blossom of hope unfurling in his chest, as much as he wished he could stop it.

This was what Hawke had wanted to keep from him, that glimmer in which perhaps, he might see her whole again. He felt he knew why. If Fenris didn’t know, then it meant she was ignoring that possible alternate ending to their tale. That she didn’t want any doubts which might sway her from her desperate course.

Only, now Fenris did know.

“And you haven’t brought this up to her since then?” He asked, when they had told him all they had to tell. “Do you have any idea, a better guide as to when this…this day without a night might be?”

“We haven’t. We didn’t get that far in the conversation.” Varric said, his tone making it obvious that he was trying to convey quite a different meaning. Fenris looked at him for a moment longer through narrowed eyes. There was still something unsettling about the way he spoke about Hawke, that they were simply avoiding talking about the topic. It only proved to him that at all costs he had to stop Hawke facing Danarius. Whatever it would take, he couldn’t face her losing her temper once again and having it cost them both everything. Sebastian was prepared with an answer for his question.

“I searched the records as best as I could. There were some that tried to tell me that such an event has happened before. Another that says it can’t be predicted and may never happen. But if it does happen, I think it could be, well, this month is the best guess we have.”

“ _If_.” Fenris repeated, the word still failing to completely dampen the faint spark he had allowed to grow in his chest.

“If.” Merrill agreed, revealing that at some point in the conversation she had sidled closer to them to listen.

Varric looked between the two of them but said no more. Instead, it was Fenris who decided how to proceed.

“You should mention it to her tonight. She needs to…she has to at least think about it.” He saw the corner of Varric’s mouth twitch in that infuriating way he had of making it seem like he was itching to make notes. Sebastian nodded firmly in agreement. “Until then, we need to have a plan.”

“We’ll do as you say, you know where we’re going best.” Merrill spoke for them all and Fenris, while surprised by the unity of their agreement, had already begun to form a plan. He knew just how to move them.

Over the next week of travel, options were discussed between them on how to approach the situation. As they drew nearer to Tevinter, Fenris tried to travel off the central highway as much as possible. Nervous there would be too many tradesmen that Danarius had used Fenris to intimidate, they couldn’t risk being recognised. At least not yet.

Although Fenris tried to ask after Hawke, all three of his companions managed to avoid the subject. However he knew they needed to convince Hawke to hold back and stick to the plan. It was important for them all to know she would, since she had to perform a major part of getting them in.

When Fenris would have the useful guise of a wolf for half of their travelling time and he was by far the most recognised in Minrathous, it made sense for them to enter the city under cover of darkness with Hawke taking the lead. It all depended on whether she would wait once her part was over so that Fenris would be the one to face Danarius, or if she would charge straight in as soon as they reached the city.

From their friends’ avoidance of that subject, Fenris knew she was being just as stubborn as usual once she had her mind set on something. This time, while Fenris appreciated the cause for her singlemindedness, he was also set on his part in confronting the magister.

Fenris rehearsed with them the pathways in the city that were used only by servants and therefore remained unknown and unnoticed to the likes of mages, soporati and visitors alike. What Fenris knew of the guard’s schedule he passed on and the likely questions they might get if they were stopped. But three years away left him uncertain of what might have changed. He impressed on them the importance to stay alert, in case things didn’t go as expected but they still acted as if his knowledge was sound and built their schedule around it faithfully.

Time grew shorter before they came upon the city, much too soon and not quickly enough, Fenris had them skirting the borders of Tevinter. Once they abandoned the Highway completely, their mood began to shift.

They focused on strategy, discussing, planning over again to make sure every detail was correct in everyone’s head once they reached the city. Fenris knew in reality that everything could just as easily be taken out of their hands the moment they reached there, but he knew that it was best to keep the plan in place and to keep everyone focused rather than worrying about what could go wrong.

On they walked.

The surrounding landscape began to shift into something more familiar to Fenris, places he had been on visits with Danarius out of the city, most often to threaten business partners. Fenris had always been there at his side. It gave him a cold amusement that this time he was most wary of threats that might be coming from Danarius, as opposed to aimed at him.

Finally, they began heading east again, trailing the river that would eventually end in Minrathous, and Fenris felt even more uneasy than usual as he took himself away from the others that evening, preparing for the late sunset of the summer days. Too soon, the change took over his unsettled mind.

He woke, lying by a river, a cloak thrown over him and the sensation of something being out of place. It was too dim, the skies were almost clear but the scenery around them was awash with purplish pink, a shade darker than it should be. He wasn’t looking to the east, towards the rising sun. Instead, his eyes were caught by the sight he had never dared imagine seeing again.

Two molten golden eyes, looking back at him in the faint glow of first light. Her skin, it looked so soft, just as perfect as he had remembered after all this time. Her chestnut hair, so similar to that of the bird he had been caring for these three long years.

The woman he had loved and waited for and he saw her there as if in a dream.

He wanted to reach out, to touch her skin as he had scarcely allowed himself to recall for fear that the longing he felt would be too much. But he didn’t dare to move because that would surely wake him out of this beautiful dream he was in.

Just as he looked at her, Hawke was also staring back at him, confusion and awe in her gaze. But most of all, there was intelligence, a real person behind those eyes. As much as he had wanted to believe she was there looking back at him from behind the hawk, there was always something too animal to the bird. He had never been fully able to convince himself.

Fenris couldn’t tell, couldn’t fully believe, that it wasn’t truly a dream until some moments later. He had spent forever and only seconds staring into Hawke’s eyes as she finally gazed back at him and then the next moment, her eyes widened and her hair straggled shorter, smoother, becoming the familiar speckled plumage. With an all too animal cry, she spread her wings and the hawk once more took to the skies.

He couldn’t take his eyes from her as he watched her go, only belatedly lifting his arm to block the sun directly dazzling his eyes as it had risen behind her. He closed his eyes against the glare and all Fenris could see was her face, the curve of her cheekbone, and the slight turn of her nose, so completely different to the hook of a Hawke’s beak. Even after all this time, the details were as firm in his mind as they had ever been.

He turned to look around him then, and he was surprised to see Varric, Sebastian and Merrill stood near him, with various incomprehensible expressions on their faces. They weren’t giving him privacy like they usually would. They had seen what he had just witnessed. He looked to them, as if for confirmation that his eyes hadn’t deceived him. A final check that this hadn’t been a dream.

The pity he saw on their faces, as much as that should have incensed him, proved that it had really happened. That moment had been real.

He stood shakily, keeping the cloak wrapped around his modesty. When he looked to the others and met their still dumbfounded expressions he tried to think of something to say. He opened his mouth and thought better of it, only bending down to grab a pair of trousers and then moving to find shelter behind some nearby rock outcrops.

Now they were so close. So close in fact, that Fenris stopped them at a certain point he knew of in the small road they travelled that he had recognised. He had often passed this way with Danarius and knew the city lay barely another mile ahead of them. It was better to wait where they were until nightfall and so they had nothing left to do but set up camp.

There was an unmistakeable tension in the air tried to go through their usual routines and go over the plan again. Wait until nightfall, enter the city and follow the route Fenris had devised to get them through the maze of city streets and into their positions around Danarius’ mansion and the city centre. An escape route in case things went wrong. Fenris knew his old master’s habits too well, and the man would be going to the Magisterium tomorrow morning for his weekly business. He was required to do his civic duty, which he reluctantly completed as rarely as possible. He was required to oversee the procession of lower mages who came to him for advice, to plead a better position or try and swindle it from him. Fenris and most of the supplicants themselves also knew that he would turn every one of them away but still they kept coming, each hoping that they would be the one to attract the favour of Magister Calvisi.

That afternoon, though he tried to marshal the others into drilling the plans into their heads, he found himself completely preoccupied. They argued that he had made them repeat it often enough they could do it backwards in their sleep and even before they had finished the rebuke his mind had drifted elsewhere.

What would happen that evening was completely out of his control. The sun would set, and only at dawn the next day would he know if they had accomplished their preliminary tasks. Even then, the worst was yet to come and as they had already agreed that their best option was to head to strategic locations, they wouldn’t even be in the same place. This was where Fenris feared it could go the most awry, were they to find that his old master’s routines had changed, or something happened to leave one member of their already limited force locked out of the final confrontation without an idea of what to do.

Except there were back up plans in place, one of which he still had to put into action. It was a fall-back that he knew his companions would not agree with but now he needed to ask one of them for their help. Someone he knew he could trust, and who would be in position to enact it, as Fenris had so carefully worked into his scheme.

“Merrill, would you help me fetch firewood?” He spoke into the heavy silence he sensed had settled over them. Luckily, the elf seemed particularly eager to jump up and get on with something.

“Of course. You know, it’s so much easier finding good, dry wood in this climate than it is back home.” She informed them cheerily as she began heading towards the copse of trees they had put between their camp and the road.

Fenris followed more wearily after her, already anticipating how his request of her would weigh down the bounce of her step. He allowed them a little time for collecting wood before he began to frame the appeal.

“Merrill, about tonight.” He started and tried to ignore Merrill’s obvious boredom of hearing about ‘the plan’. “I need to ask you to do something for me. Will you help me?”

“You people might think me simple, but I do need a little more information than that before I agree to do anything.” She replied starchily. Fenris didn’t pretend to be taken aback, focused on his careful wording.

“If everything works and we are in place tomorrow, I won’t see you.” He paused but Merrill waited, there was no need to confirm this again. “You will be the last person to see Hawke, and I need to ask you, as her friend, to look after her.”

“The last one to see her? I’ll only be waiting with her.” Merrill tilted her head at him then gave a small sigh. “I know how much you care for her though. It’s more than that, isn’t it?”

“I have no way to tell what may happen when I face Danarius. All I can say is that my chances aren’t good. So while you’re out there, doing what it is you do to sense their magic and help us in your way, I also ask that you try to, I don’t know, sense their magic coming out to you.”

“Fenris, it don’t know if I can do something like that.”

“But you _can_ feel it. I know there’s some hint of it for mages. I feel it moving past me and it’s only because of this lyrium under my skin. You can feel it in your blood.” Merrill was reluctantly nodding, she didn’t yet know what he was asking but she knew the sensation he spoke of. “What I need you to do is sense any of that magic snaking outside to Hawke.”

“I will be seeking to protect any of you.”

“Yes but…in there, I have to accept I stand almost no chance. I need you to promise me that if you feel a hint of his magic reaching Hawke, to harm her or draw her in… Merrill, you have to take her life. No matter what life is worth, it is far better than for it to fall into his hands.”

Merrill drew in a sharp breath and stared at Fenris, her eyes piercing into his own.

“Why would you ask this of me?”

It was not an easy question to answer, not looking her in the eyes. “Because I trust you to know when the right moment has come. You can use his magic against him. And I trust you to do this for me. For her. It would only be a kindness.”

“Considering the alternatives?” She finished his thought for him and Fenris nodded in gratitude, thinking she had grasped his meaning.

“Will you do this?”

“You would ask me to do this without Hawke’s permission. Can you say it’s definitely for the best this way?” Fenris was taken aback by the determination in Merrill’s tone, the slight cant of her hips and she stood up straight to face him. None the less, he made himself meet her eye.

“I believe it’s what she would choose, if she knew what I do about the depravity of Danarius.”

“Why me? Why not Varric? He knows you both better, or Sebastian, who swore to help you?” She reasoned.

“Because…it may be that when the time came, they would put too much faith in this research that Sebastian did for them to do what must be done.”

“I thought you believed them too?” Fenris carefully noted how her comment didn’t confirm or deny her belief in the knowledge from the Tevinter scrolls.

“I…wish to plan for all alternatives.” He replied instead and Merrill seemed to accept it. Fenris didn’t want to admit, to her or to himself, that he hoped there was a grain of truth to them. Nor did he want to admit how farfetched the whole thing seemed, now they were at the eve of confrontation. Better at this point to proceed as Hawke did, like a charging bull.

Merrill left him with an ambiguous answer he wished to believe was her word that she would do what had to be done. If all other options seemed useless, he could hope she would agree to free Hawke rather than see what Danarius could do with her life.

He took some time to himself in those last few hours of daylight before he would be dropped unawares into the place he least wanted to revisit. The most chilling fear of what he would face was just how much of it would be familiar to him.

As he mused, he had walked through the trees to a point where he could see the road and had been watching a cart trundle along towards his obscured hiding place. There, he saw something that made his breath catch in his throat

Once the cart drew close enough that he could see its contents he began to make out a sizeable pile, high enough to turn Fenris’ stomach, of furs lying in the wagon. Wolf pelts, of which an unlikely number of them were pale or white. Just as Varric had frequently told him his own form appeared.

This was what Danarius had come to. It was as Fenris had always feared, always known at the corner of his mind, looking over his shoulder on every road they took.

They were hunted.

Hunted like an animal. Perhaps Danarius hadn’t told his huntsmen the full story, but he had reached a manic fury where all he thirsted for was Fenris’ blood. And certainly Hawke’s too. Danarius’ wrath a consuming terror in his mind, Fenris couldn’t help but rethink their mission. It was a fool’s errand they had taken on. Would it be so shameless to turn away now? To go back to life they had lived, the methodical peace they had found working on the farms in the Anderfels?

Yet, Fenris’ traitorous mind kept working away. As much as he wished that life could be as simple as a heavy plough and a stubborn horse, it had never been their fate, or his wish. The wheels had been turning, to bring them to this point, at this time. There was no peace, there could be no satisfaction for either of them in that kind of life. Too long they had been only a hairsbreadth of the horizon apart and it was finally a pain he could no longer bear.

They would bring this to an end, in their own time. Not his. So if nothing else, Fenris would have the final freedom in his life – to choose when it ended.

By the time he had made his way back to the small area they’d stamped out for their camp, the others had already begun preparations for the evening’s ploy to get themselves inside the city. It had been a point of contention but with the evidence Fenris had just seen on the road, it was possibly the smoothest part of their plan. How else might they sneak a wolf into the busy urban area, when the simple answer was to offer himself up as the prize Danarius sought?

Along the road they had collected a decrepit merchants cart with a snapped wheel. Merrill showed an aptitude for mending this, an essential skill she had learnt travelling with Dalish aravels. In fact, her efficiency at the task had their wooden cage built far too easily and left Fenris with far too much time to think as the day crept to a close.

All conversation had come to a clamouring silence in the last golden moments of the day. Fenris breathed deeply, focused on his own heartbeats and counted the sun down to skirt the distant, rising mountains.

One of his last thoughts was whether he might be flayed before it rose again.

>>><<>><<>><<>><<< 

“Elf? Elf, are you in there yet?” Varric’s voice didn’t truly raise Fenris, the shaking of the uncomfortable surface underneath left him fairly certain that he hadn’t truly been asleep at any point. The tight headache he felt behind his eyes confirmed that sleep had mostly eluded him that night.

“I’m awake. Where-” He was cut off by a bundle being roughly shoved through the bars of the cage he now recognised. After he had quickly pulled on his leggings and thrust the provided tunic over his head his attention caught on the door of the cage. “Varric. Is that a lock?”

The rough canvas thrown over the cage meant he couldn’t see the dwarf’s face but he could already sense his grimace. “We were spotted as we came into the city, as you said. While you made an excellent show of being a wild animal, it meant he offered us some extra wolf-proofing and some very helpful directions. Don’t worry, I can open that lock with my eyes closed.”

Fenris held his tongue as he thought through Varric’s news. “So they saw you enter and sent you to Danarius directly?”

“Correct.” Fenris growled in anticipation he wasn’t entirely feeling but he heard Varric’s voice trail off as the cart bumped and turned a corner, then slowed to a halt. “It’s possible the prize of a live wolf has already been reported to him.”

Varric moved off the cart and had pulled back the cover from the cage none too soon, allowing him to speak the last to Fenris’ face directly. But Fenris sighed in resignation all too soon.

“I wouldn’t doubt that he knew some days ago from his spies on the road.”

“Let’s hope you put too much faith in his efforts. Now let me get you out of this.” Varric leaned down to look at the new lock securing the cage.

A long pause later and Varric was still studying the lock with a variety of different tools from his belt.

“I would appreciate you speeding this up, Varric.” Fenris muttered while looking down at the dwarf’s hands, busy at the metal clasp.

“Alright, just give me a moment.” He replied testily.

“We do have somewhere we need to be today.”

“And you don’t help standing there glowering down at me like that. You’re blocking what little light there is at this hour.” Fenris breathed in and out, loudly, to which Varric only offered him a reproving look and bent back to his not so straightforward task. A moment later Fenris heard the bells ringing out across the town of Minrathous. How familiar the streets and air here was, the dawn bell clanged through him just as it had every long day in all his memories. He also knew that Danarius would be rising soon and heading to his business in the centre. Too soon for Fenris’ liking at this rate.

One last breath, one more gong shook through the streets to wake the city. Fenris would wait no more.

The loud crunch of wood was what finally made Varric look up and he gave a small huff, whether in disapproval or just annoyance at his solution being outdone Fenris wasn’t sure. However, he hopped out of the newly opened hole on the other side of the cage and walked around to meet the scowling Varric.

“I’m very glad the guard didn’t look more closely at the workmanship of our cage.” Varric muttered as he put the lockpicking tools away in his belt. “They must make their locks differently up north.”

Fenris was already fastening his leather pauldrons and vambraces onto himself, ignoring Varric’s grumbling and in a practiced motion picked up his sword to put it in place at his back.

“I see you found a horse.” Fenris observed, as he began walking in the direction he knew Danarius’ mansion lay in, even after all this time. He gave the horse a wistful pat as they passed, but unhooked it as there was no way it could easily walk through the streets with them.

“The princeling got it for us after night fall. He’s awfully good at that, for a choir boy.”

“You and I both know he didn’t pick up those skills in his chantry training.”

“No, but watching him agonise over his crime was good fun.”

“I’m glad someone was enjoying it.” Fenris drawled and Varric grinned. “Sebastian and Merrill…they were confident in where they were going when you left them?”

“Trust me, we probably all know this city as well as you do by now.” Fenris wanted to avoid asking but of course Varric anticipated the answer he was really interested in. “Hawke trusts you. Even if she was practically chomping at the bit by the time we passed the gates, she believes in your plan.” He felt rather than saw Varric looking sideways at him. “And she remembered yesterday morning. It was the first thing she spoke of when the sun set.”

Fenris thought back to the moment he had stared at her the previous morning, seeing her face for nowhere near enough time. Even now, his recollection was too similar to his frequently recurring dreams.

In the next moment, his pleasant thoughts came jarringly to an end and he glimpsed the profile of a man he couldn’t possibly forget.

Danarius walked past the end of their passage, the magister as oblivious to slave routes as anybody of power in the town. His condescension to those around him likely saved their lives as Fenris stared at the place his master had just been, willing his heart to beat more quietly, in case the echoing sound drew Danarius back to investigate.

A hand came to touch his arm and Fenris might almost have hit the opposite wall as he recoiled, only to see Varric standing with his hands raised in front of him calmingly. He spoke in a hushed voice.

“You know the way to follow him?”

Of course he did, and Varric knew that, but his gentle nudging allowed Fenris to focus on the one task at a time, the quickest route to the city centre. Danarius shouldn’t have been here this early. They should have been able to reach his mansion before he set out. He had been roused, perhaps eager to see the offering of a wolf delivered to him.

Varric’s touch didn’t send Fenris railing away this time, it only stopped him as he intended so that they weren’t both seen by a passing elf on the adjacent road.

He had to focus on the task.

The streets were getting busier. Fenris had left his cloak on the cart in his haste to move. Fear of being recognised kept him moving swiftly with his head lowered to the ground and constantly feeling the attention of eyes turned towards him, imagined glances or otherwise. He continued for a few more streets before peering over his shoulder to realise Varric was struggling to keep up with his agitated pace.

Forcing himself to slow, the deliberate pacing made their journey to the back entrance of the Magisterium seem interminable. There, Fenris and Varric had to part ways as Varric moved inside but he had some last words for Fenris.

“This is it, elf. We’re going to fix this.” He said with a small smile. Fenris knew it was meant to be supportive, and that he was once more thinking of the supposed solution to end their curse. “This could be your day without a night.”

The notes Sebastian had found weren’t able to tell them why it would work, or even what the cryptic wording was meant to mean. What use was hope when it only left you yearning for the impossible? Instead he looked up at the sky pointedly.

“It’s day, Varric. Like it was yesterday. Like it will be tomorrow. But one way or the other, we will see this end.” He grimly thought of the instructions he had left with Merrill.

With a heavier set to his jaw Fenris couldn’t regret putting there, Varric left for the main hall, while Fenris settled into his viewing point where he would wait for the right moment.

Except the steady trickle of hopeful laetans and even praeteri didn’t proceed into the magisterium to see Danarius as he had expected them to. The few that had entered didn’t reappear. Instead Fenris waited with growing unease, tensing every moment that the Tevinters continued to act as he didn’t expect them to.

Fenris felt like he heard a hawk’s shrill cry across the noise of the now busy central square. As unlikely as it seemed over the ambient noise surrounding him, the sound incited him like a signal fire. He shifted in his agitation and that movement turned into rising to his feet.

Whether willingly or not, Fenris found himself striding to the grand doorway of the hall. He could stand still no longer, not after all this time of waiting. The time to act was upon him.

The doors swung inwards at his heavy thrust and he stepped into the richly draped chamber.

“Danarius.” He growled and unfailingly his eyes found the man sat at the end of the room, watching him expectantly.

“Ahh, my little wolf. So you return to me at last.”

The chillingly familiar voice seeped across the room to engulf Fenris and he felt himself shrink back from it, as if three years of life had been nothing. He followed his instincts, letting himself draw in, averting his eyes and appearing as he might be expected to behave. However, his years of training at this man’s hand meant he was able to observe the room, even as his throat constricted, as if he could feel the long, cold fingers wrapping themselves around him from this distance.

There were people gathered along the edges of the wall, as he had expected of the people who had entered the building during his watch. What he hadn’t expected was that they seemed to hover around the edges, watching…and waiting.

The sickening feeling only increased when his eyes caught sight of the furs piled in the corner. Without looking more closely, Fenris felt he recognised the contents of the cart he’d seen the previous afternoon. He rapidly withdrew his eyes from the gruesome offerings and scanned the crowd once more, failing to find the familiar faces he was looking for.

Instead he had to look back to the sneer spread across Danarius’ thin mouth. There was unmistakeably something greedy in the man’s countenance, the way he leaned forwards in his chair, a predator ready to pounce.

Only he had given the role of hunter to Fenris, who had learnt well that the way to catch your prey was to take a victim by surprise. He took a step forwards and when his alarmingly shaky legs didn’t collapse from underneath him, he lowered his head to the floor meekly and proceeded to walk through the gauntlet of avid onlookers. By not looking up at the silver haired man, it meant he didn’t have to meet that cold, grey gaze.

“You think to return to your master after all you put me through? I’ve been searching everywhere since I lost you. It’s clear you haven’t been looking after yourself.” Danarius continued beseechingly, the bare hint of a sneer rising in his voice. Only now, Fenris was able to recognise the reaction Danarius tried to evoke. He wouldn’t feel guilt for the man’s anguish, instead he focused on his justified anger and keeping his gaze fixed only on the marble at his feet.

He stopped when he knew himself a matter of paces away from the raised dais of the hall. Still, he didn’t raise his head, though the back of his neck itched from the scrutiny of every person in that room. Especially the increasingly smug Danarius.

“This slave is ashamed of the burden he has put on his master.” He tried not to bite out the words, even as they tasted like the Taint on his tongue. He had to make Danarius believe, just for a moment longer. The acid taste of them now only further demonstrated how far he was from the elf who had once let such words roll from him so easily, so unthinkingly. Handing over his life and his liberty, feeling as if he was the one that owed Danarius something.

“And so you should be. Do you know the suffering you’ve made me inflict, just to try and bring you back to safety, Fenris?” Danarius almost crooned, and Fenris clenched his teeth to stop the feral snarl he felt as he heard the magister rise from his seat. He wasn’t quite prepared for the way Danarius stepped forward, his movement drafting the same sickly scent that Fenris recalled so well. The strong smell of hyacinths, the flowers were imported from Seheron and filled his mansion at great expense.

As his nostrils filled with the flowery fragrance, he had a flash of recollection and felt himself breathing more heavily. The sensation of terror at the approach of this man’s footsteps; the anticipation of a punishment that was no doubt deserved; the pain of biting his tongue to keep from crying out because Danarius would ask to let it be heard when he held his screams back.

That small memory of defiance was all Fenris had to claw back to himself. Even then, even as shamed of his actions as he was now, he had always held the tiny spark of insubordination that had allowed him to claim his freedom. As he would grant himself now.

He opened his eyes, not remembering when he had clenched them shut, and saw Danarius’ boots on the floor in the edge of his vision.

He turned his head as little as possible to the side and, straining his eyes, he caught the face he had been looking for under a robe that just didn’t fit well enough. Varric was here, and no doubt had the ridiculous crossbow secreted under there as well. Turning to the other side, Fenris spotted Sebastian, hidden partially behind a sumptuously robed man.

His backup was in place; Hawke was just where he wanted her, out of the way and Danarius was just where he needed him.

“And what of your creature Hawke?” Danarius eerily mirrored his thoughts and Fenris held himself very still in his hunched position. “Did you leave her behind after all? Silly flighty little thing that she was, I’m not surprised. Such a terrible shame about her father.”

His throat felt dry, he could barely force words out, but he knew Danarius was so close now and he forced himself to ignore the man’s incisive words. He was sure the pulse leaping in his throat would surely alert the magister that scrutinised his old slave.

His voice was so small as it came out, “She wasn’t what I needed.”

“Hmm? What was that?” Danarius was almost grinning, Fenris heard it in his voice and he despised him. The man stepped closer, cocking his ear as if prompting Fenris to speak up and only when his hand started to move did he let a smile touch his own lips.

Fitting that the man’s pride would be his downfall. Fenris swung his arm up, to catch at Danarius, the lyrium light racing along his skin to illuminate the final look on the man’s face.

Fenris’ hand stopped just shy of the man’s chest. Instead, a burst of pure pain sliced up his arm, as if shards of glass were shot into his fingertips and forced along his veins.

Dimly, he felt his knees hit the solid marble of the floor as the pain spread through the rest of his body, searing through his flesh. The lyrium, he connected slowly, his thoughts difficult to string together under the torment.

Then it stopped, and he heard his own cries come to a sudden silence in the dull echo around the chamber. Disconcerted by the unfamiliar torture, Danarius still entirely assured Fenris of the power he held over the very contents of his skin.

“You think me a simpleton, to walk in as if nothing had happened and have me forgive everything? I’m ashamed you could imagine I’d fall for that low trick.”

Fenris was still panting for breath as he looked up at the magister from his new position, kneeling at his feet. Their posing was painfully familiar, making Fenris wish nothing more than to stand up again. Which he did, slowly and painstakingly.

He looked up too, to meet the man’s eyes. The look in them was one of a rapidly surging temper and, as it always had, Danarius’ power seemed to thrive on anger as much as it had on the power of fresh slave blood.

 “No tricks then, no pretense.” Fenris stood up straight, straighter than he ever had in Danarius’ presence before and in a slow measured movement, without taking his eyes from Danarius, he drew his sword from its place on his back. “Will you undo it?”

Danarius gave him a measuring look, and Fenris caught the flash in his eyes. The savouring of a challenge before him. Even now, Danarius still thought this was a game.

“You think it so simple – that if you ask nicely, I’ll free you? I thought you knew me better than that.”

“And if I’m not asking nicely?”

“What a tongue you’ve developed, my little wolf.” Danarius snapped out his words harshly, the venom in them would once have been enough to send Fenris quailing. “I will need to re-educate you in the manners your bitch has ruined for you.”

“ _Hawke_ has saved me, from _you_.”

“She’s here, isn’t she?” He scoffed, “As if I could expect you to go anywhere on your own. You imagine yourself a free man, when you’ve just turned yourself over to another master.”

“Of course you would make it into some exchange of power. Let me put it simply for you. You have lost yours, you lost it yourself when you threatened her. Three years ago.” Fenris traded words with the magister who had once made his life a misery. The ties that still chained him to Danarius even as he had entered this chamber were slowly slipping free as he spoke back.

Yet he was taken aback when Danarius raised his eyebrow slowly, tauntingly.

“My, was it so long ago? I guess now, we are well past threats.”

He gave a small wave of his hand and suddenly Fenris sensed movement from his flanks. He twisted to see one man stepping forwards, determination and death in his face, and just as quickly, Fenris had slashed out with his huge sword, effortlessly dealing with the one even as he spun to meet the other coming up behind him.

A clang of steel as his blade met another with force. The jarring impact on his arm made it clear that Danarius’ earlier assault on his lyrium had taken something from his reserves. Even with his strength lacking, he still had this attacker in hand and was able to keep Varric and Sebastian from having to reveal their positions.

The man retreated and took another vicious swing. Fenris, taken aback by the man’s ferocity, only just rallied to meet it and then, managing to focus himself on the fight, pushed the man back one more step.

This defender of Danarius, whoever he might be, was not easily dissuaded and soon lunged again, at what he thought was an opening. Well-practised in defending themselves from various bandits on the road, Fenris blocked him easily enough, then another lunge, another parry. This time he skipped to the side, stretched to slash and felt a pull in his arm, the kind of fatigue that usually only came on after a relentless assault.

He could ignore it, for now, and hope that every man in the room didn’t decide to step forward to earn the magister’s favour.

In fact, it didn’t take long for Fenris to dispatch the second man, and he turned back to Danarius with eyes narrowed, lightly panting.

“And it seems we are past a fair fight.” He reprimanded, sounding calmer than he felt.

“I thought you seemed quite in control of things. Very well, something to test you then.” Danarius looked more specifically to the crowd and Fenris saw multiple people move. Unwillingly, he turned his back on Danarius to see three people moving towards him. If they looked a little more nervous about stepping forwards, Fenris wasn’t relieved. As he shifted the sword to a ready position once more, he caught a final movement. Yet another two stepped slightly away from the crowd. They both had staffs in their hand. A vacuum of air popped in his ears and Fenris knew a demon had been summoned. Looking quickly over the heads of the advancing swordsmen, it was two hulking, shadowy figures.

Fenris heard himself let out a laugh of bravado, far from the pit of fear his stomach had become, then he swept his sword in an arc before him, narrowly missing two of the men who leapt back hastily but the first was not so prepared and was caught conclusively across the stomach. He barely got his sword back in place to parry one of the leading men’s attacks when he heard a shout of dismay from Danarius behind him.

The sound was almost enough to make him falter and look over his shoulder defensively before he noticed an arrow protruding from one man’s neck, and another bolt embedded in the chest of one of the mages.

“Treacherous creature! You try to tell me this is fair when you have hidden intruders in my hall.”

Fenris felt the briefest moment of satisfaction that Danarius was so rattled by that possibility, who might be working against him. But he could only concentrate on ducking under the sword of the final man and instead confronted the first demon.

In a blur of self-defence, Fenris felt his instincts kick in, considerably better trained with a sword than he used to be, and he met the demon with a clang. At first, he wasn’t sure where one might stab a figure of shifting ash and smoke but he found a decisive slash across the chest worked as well as it might on any man. The final swordsman let out a grunt of pain as the sound a bowstring snapped once more and the demon similarly stumbled with an arrow protruding from its core. Unlike a man, this didn’t stop it and Fenris danced back from its wildly slashing claws.

Stopping the shifting creature was a challenge, Fenris felt a cut opened across his cheek as he ducked under one wide gesticulation to once again plunge his sword into the creature. Though slowed, it wasn’t until he yanked his weapon to one side that the demon collapsed in a cloud of choking dust.

Fenris looked up towards the final mage to see a bolt from Bianca fly swiftly towards the man’s heart. Then it stopped in mid-air and clattered to the ground. A magical barrier was protecting him.

He strode on forwards, rapidly thinking over what he knew of mage’s defensive barriers.

His sword smashed at the man’s wall and Fenris saw him flinch, proving that he definitely felt the effort of maintaining the full barrier, even after so little time.

Fenris also felt his relief wash over him at that, tactics flickering through his mind. Meanwhile his own twitching muscles were starting to make it clear they were tiring. He took a moment to glance over his shoulder at Varric, hoping to see the dwarf’s plan of attack.

As he turned he felt only a moment of panic. Danarius was moving towards them, blood dripping from his fist and a single-minded fury in his face. Then as Fenris turned to face him, sword half raised to attack, or defend, everything froze in place.

He couldn’t move, he couldn’t look anywhere other than the approaching magister, stalking across the final few paces towards him. The blood was balling out from his palm, globules of it circling his fist with a sickening finality.

He couldn’t do anything to stop it. Only as he was torn from the fighting, forced to focus elsewhere, did he become aware of the peculiar darkness that had slowly come over the room. Abruptly his skin crawled with the thought of the other magister at his back. Was that who was paralysing him? Perhaps it was Danarius’ more powerful blood magic causing this strange unnatural blackness.

Danarius was close enough now that he leaned forward, whispering malice in his ear.

“Always remember, you brought this on yourself. I’ll enjoy making you mine again.” Then he straightened upright again and addressed the witnesses gathered around the hall. “I gave you all your chance. Now I’ll show you fools how you properly cage a wolf.”

The room grew ever blacker and then, like a tingle against his skin, thrumming through the lyrium, Fenris felt the brush of Danarius’ magic across his skin. Connected to it through him, he was able to sense it pass over him, reaching behind, down the hall and outside.

He saw the expression change on Danarius’ face, his eyes narrowed and he muttered to himself. “She’s here.”

Fenris closed his eyes. He was certain Merrill could feel the brush of magic just as well as he could. He trusted she would make it swift. From this point on, he fought as a man with nothing to lose, if only he could do anything about it. The cold weight of anguish settled in his stomach but he knew he could only be relieved that Hawke didn’t have to suffer whatever fate lay ahead of him.

There was a wet thud behind him, and somehow Fenris knew that the other mage had been dealt with, as his staff fell from his lifeless hand and clattered across the marble floor. It seemed that Varric or Sebastian had been able to help him out even as the immobilising force over Fenris remained.

He was distracted briefly by a tingle in Danarius’ hold over him, a flicker that drew a ripple of light across his skin. Fenris braced himself, recognising the mage was readying his magic, finding the fastest way to inflict the most pain.

“And we’re back to blood magic again. Don’t you magisters ever get tired of living up to our clichés?” Fenris, frozen as he was, felt astonishment jolt through him. He couldn’t forget that voice, not after three years could he mistake it for anyone but her.

Hawke’s footsteps echoed through the hall. Closer and closer behind him.

“That’s not possible.” Danarius took a step back and Fenris felt as much as heard her pause only a few paces from his back. As Danarius drew away in bewilderment, Fenris felt that same tremor of magic and only then realised what it was. The mage’s shock was distracting him from the magic he was maintaining. Slowly, watching the man’s face for any sign he was aware of his fighting, Fenris began to press against the invisible restraints holding him.

“Funnily enough, that’s what I said.” Hawke replied, unrelenting. “Here I thought we didn’t agree on anything.”

Fenris tried to pretend he couldn’t hear the smile in her voice. Maker save him, she was enjoying it.

Maker be blessed, it was really her.

He strained to turn and felt the pressure constricting on him again. As if past experience had taught her nothing, here she was taunting the very same magister again. Fenris was at the brunt of Danarius’ rising temper.

Then Hawke stepped forward and he felt her hand on his shoulder. No talons, no wings beating past his ear. There was no time to hesitate so he pushed outwards with everything he had. A surge of the lyrium gave him strength and he felt Danarius’ bonds break.

“Look at her Danarius. Look at me.” He stood and strode forwards, closing the distance between himself and his old master. As he did so, he saw something that had never before been so obvious to him.

Danarius was a man. Like any other, he was panicked by the evidence of his magic failing him. He shrank back from the sheer wrath in Fenris’ approach. He was not some all powerful deity as Fenris had once seen him, but a man with too much power that let himself believe he was unstoppable. His very reliance on his magic left him looking so small now.

Danarius’ eyes flickered from Fenris across to Hawke, stood behind him and in that moment, Fenris knew Sebastian’s books had spoken true. This darkness in the room was nothing to do with the power of mages. A night without day break, as it had been predicted.

Finally, feeling all of the three years behind him, Fenris turned from Danarius to look at Hawke. She was smiling back at him, and through the tall windows above her head, he saw the sun, where it should be in the sky, only it was completely covered by the moon.

As Fenris and Hawke had always been, their curse was broken by the sun and the moon working together.

“Oh Danarius, you pathetic wretch, your magic wouldn’t ever be enough to make me want you.” Hawke began pityingly but Fenris caught her eyes flick towards his. She actually dared to give him a wink. “How hawkward.”

Fenris had only a moment with which to close his eyes despairingly, before he heard Hawke’s sharp intake of breath. He had been expecting something of the kind and he spun, sidestepping out of the way of Danarius’ sudden pulse of dark energy. He felt the impact glance past him and watched it smash into the far wall of the chamber with the force of a flying boulder, cracking marble and crumbling stone as the magic almost punched straight through to the square outside.

The destruction almost distracted him but he turned back to see the magister kneeling on the floor, and a large amount of blood already soaking down his front. A neat dagger hilt protruded from his shoulder, one he remembered purchasing for Hawke in a town they had visited in Rivain.

The magister looked up then, his face pale and his eyes grim. “What are you going to do with me?” He asked, and Fenris narrowed his eyes. He didn’t trust the magister any more than he ever had and saw the trail of blood leaking down his hand only as a potential power source.

“All I ever wanted to do.” He dropped his sword to the ground with a clang and closed the distance between them in two swift steps. “I’m going to kill you.”

Then his fist was buried in the man’s chest before the initial burst of magic could overpower him and Danarius lifted easily into the air, eliciting only a wheeze of pain. He faced the fate his slave had delivered to so many of his rivals in the past, at his instruction. Through only his wish for it to finally be over Fenris decided that his gift to Danarius would be the same one that had been denied them for so long. A swift fate.

Fenris felt the final pulse of Danarius’ life under his fingers, then just as easily as any other, it was extinguished. “I am not your slave.” He said quietly, knowing that the dead man’s ears would not hear but the words came anyway. He discarded the magister’s body and looked back to the waiting crowd.

“Danarius was a hateful man. I suggest you leave this place before his dealings with demons damage your reputations as well.” He told them, even as he noticed a couple step forwards, as if thinking they might still stand up for the deceased magister. Varric and Sebastian stepped from the crowd to brandish their weapons but Fenris’ threat to their status was almost enough on its own and very quickly, the hall began to empty, leaving only the four of them standing there.

However, as soon as Fenris was assured there would be no imminent trouble, his attention was completely diverted to the beautiful woman stood feet away from him. He moved to her, everything strangely light as if he was walking in the Fade.

Her face reflected the same awe and disbelief that he was feeling and he looked into her golden eyes for only a moment before they couldn’t bear to be apart for another second.

Drawn together, catching like a flame to a dry piece of tinder, Fenris and Hawke had their arms around each other. Her head fitted so neatly under his neck, he buried his face next to her ear, his hand in her hair, at her back. He felt her under his fingers, every line of her pressed against his body he savoured. He stood still for several deep breaths and let himself realise it was her, truly her. Her scent, her shuddering laughs against his chest, he didn’t know that he could let her go.

Or he didn’t think he could until she pulled back again, not enough that her arms came away from his own sides, and then he was drinking in the sight of her face again. The crinkles at the corner of her eyes as he saw a grin on her face that looked likely to split her wide open.

Her golden gaze flicked all across his face, his chest, his hair and arms, then she brought one hand up to touch the loose strands of hair that had fallen from where he pulled it back into it’s tail.

“You let your hair grow.” She commented, her grin only slightly dimmed to allow her to quirk her lips at him.

His own hand, still at her neck, fondly flicked away the lock of hair that fell across her eyes. “You didn’t.” He observed just as simply, then brought his hand down to her cheek, stroking his thumb across her skin, marvelling anew at the contrast of their skin tones.

She brought her own hand to meet his. “Well, I couldn’t make a lie of your drawings.”

Fenris took far longer than usual to notice the shifting of Varric over Hawke’s shoulder but still didn’t pull himself far from her as he asked, “So, what now?”

“First, you’re going to take me out of this miserable building and into the sun outside. It’s been far too long since I enjoyed what that feels like, you know.”

“I have some idea.” He intoned, as he let his hand fall finally to her side, only for her to immediately wrap her arm and fingers around his own. Linked together, they walked out into the Square, taking a quick detour by the body of the second mage, where Hawke retrieved what he realised was her other dagger. It was still dim outside, though much of the sun had reappeared from the shadow of the moon now. Even so, Hawke lifted her free arm to shade her eyes and blinked out into the busy world beyond.

Tthe joy that overwhelmed her face was breathtaking. He couldn’t wait any longer and reached for her again, drawing her close as his lips tentatively found hers. Her response was entirely enthusiastic as she opened her mouth to him and they tasted each other as if for the first time. Better than any memory, better than any stolen kiss in a dark corner of a mansion. This was now.

And they had all of time to do it.

The warmth of that realisation swept through him and it took some time before he pulled away from her - delighted by the small sound of rebuke she gave - as he noticed other people in the market square throwing them sideways glances, elven slaves and human nobles alike.

She clearly noticed them and was very quick to pull herself close against him once more. Fenris looked back at her, marvelling at her brazenness and again at the perpetual wonder that he was the one she would choose to stand by, then he repeated his question.

“What now? We must move on from Minrathous soon.” He was almost surprised at his ability to think practically. Everything inside him felt as light as air, and about as steady.

Unrelenting, Hawke put her hand to his face as she answered, “Let’s go home, Fenris.” She whispered against his lips, and pulled him the last inch towards her so they could meet again. Too quickly, she pulled back and looked curiously at him. “That is, if you want to go back there with me.”

Fenris almost laughed, the idea that he might go anywhere without her was so absurd but he turned it into a smirk as he took her hand and nudged her gently away from him, in the direction he knew would take them to the main road.

“I will enjoy following you.” He promised her.

“Following? I think not. You’re going to be right up next to me,” She demonstrated by pulling him by the hand against her side, “where I will not let you out of my sight.”

A swift cough to their side brought both of their attentions away from each other once more though Fenris couldn’t feel guilty as he looked up at Sebastian and Varric, one watching distractingly attentively while the other politely averted his gaze. Though they both couldn’t hide their gladness for the reunion.

“As much as I know this can’t be hurried,” Varric spoke up, “I think the elf was right about us not lingering after committing a couple of murders.”

“You’re not hurrying us, Varric. We’re just getting started.” Hawke laughed, the sound as light as a feather compared to the loud cry he had become accustomed to.

Sebastian tactfully lowered his voice. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

At the same time Varric indelicately observed, “This is going to be a long trip back home.”

“Where’s Merrill?” Sebastian spoke again, steering away from their friendly objections. Fenris looked around quickly, ashamed he hadn’t noticed the missing elf, and fear registering as he wondered who would have taken her away. He could well imagine what might become of her at someone’s hands in this city.

“She’s fine. She told me there was something she had to see to at Danarius’ house.” Hawke assured them all quickly as they turned to her inquiringly. “I gather you had told her the way.”

“We didn’t, but I think everyone knew each other’s routes through the city.” Varric chuckled. “Of course Daisy was called to where there were elves that needed saving.”

Merrill had often asked with concern after the slaves’ plight in Minrathous, enough that Fenris often became annoyed at the questioning. However he also felt a wave of guilty relief at the news. The Dalish elf was saving people who had suffered under Danarius’ reign, just as he had. As she took the task upon herself, it meant he never had to look at that house again. He would be glad to leave it far behind.

His mind drifted favourably from his former prison to a family; a kind, sweet sister; fiercely loving mother and brave, stubborn brother. The people Hawke had waiting back at home. He gently squeezed her hand to draw her attention, finding she was already looking at him.

“Let’s go. Merrill will find her way to the southern gate and we’re safer waiting for her out there.”

The others nodded and they fell in behind Fenris’ lead as he kept Hawke as close as possible to his side, feeling too carefree to be perturbed by the scandalised glances they were attracting. As they walked, Hawke leaned up to his ear.

“Authority looks good on you.” He looked over to see her grinning appreciatively.

He knew, as he led them through the back streets and onto the main road, that refusing her would be useless. “You’re only saying that because you know I’ll argue with you.”

“Or, I’m saying it because it’s true. And I wanted to see if you _would_ argue.” She answered cryptically, though from the look on her face he could tell that she thought she had won.

Quite the opposite, as he couldn’t imagine having anything more that he could want in this moment. Instead, he turned to press a kiss onto the top of her short hair. “You’re impossible.” He told her fondly and she turned her full smile on him.

“You’re only now realising this?”

“No, but I will look forward to experiencing it all over again.”

“And again and again.” She continued, promisingly.

“I hope so.” They were within sight of the gate that led to the rest of the world. “We have a lot of time to catch up on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! There's only so long I can stare at and edit a chapter before it starts to drive me crazy and yes, I was very nervous that people might be disappointed or not feel satisfied. I don't have a great record of finishing fics.
> 
> So please, let me know what you think, and hold on for an epilogue coming soon. I can't thank you enough for reading and for those of you commenting and leaving kudos or messaging me on tumblr, you have been more important than you know.


	13. Epilogue

Merrill escaped the city with several elves in tow, and triumph in her face. Riona really didn’t want to ask how she had managed to get them through the streets, so she didn’t. Instead she allowed herself to focus all of her attention on Fenris, the sight and sounds and love of him that she had been denied for these past years. He was everything she had remembered and yet some things stood out to her.

As he walked, he stood more upright. He looked her in the eyes as he spoke, and he was not at all reluctant in pulling her towards him when they had time to indulge in some privacy. He was proud, as he had always been but he was more open in showing it, arguing his point in friendly conversation that was a delight to watch between himself and Varric or Sebastian, even Merrill.

It seemed that in the three years he had been alone, or at least independent from Danarius and herself, he had found what he truly wanted to strive for.

“You.” He told her one evening as she mused on the changes she had noticed in him. “I discovered what I had to do to keep you safe. And how to keep us alive until we found an end to it.”

“But, did you truly believe the whole time? That the curse would be broken?” She asked him, leaning against his arm and not able to look up at him. Still, she felt him turn to study her as he considered his answer.

“No. Not at all. But I had to believe I’d see you again.”

Riona took a longer while before she spoke again. When she did, her voice was small, she was almost scared to say the words out loud. Certainly she had never told Varric her fears. “I thought it would never be broken. I thought I’d never see you again and that I’d start to forget what you even looked like. That I’d think of Fenris and only see a white wolf.” She felt her arm tighten around his as she spoke, but couldn’t loosen her grip. She kept her eyes on the ground between her feet and thanked the darkening evening that shadows would hide her face.

Surprisingly, he gave a huff of dry amusement. “I worried the same thing. That’s why I had to save you, and I had to keep your face in my memory, before it was too late. It’s why I…”

“Your drawings?” She cut him off and jolted away to look at him, surprised as she realised there had been such a reason behind the gesture. In particular, alarmed that she hadn’t been alone in her fear. He nodded with a small smile.

She felt her face light up, even as her fingers went to the pouch at her belt and Fenris narrowed his eyes at her in confusion. “I have to show you something,” She said simply and opened the pouch she had rendered useless some time ago, even when they were meant to reduce their equipment for ease of travelling. Then she was pulling out the drawings, three years’ worth of images he had made, the great majority of them depicted herself in various remembered and imagined poses.

“You…kept them?” He was marvelling at the pile of paper she had uncovered, some folded down as small as they would go to squeeze into the pocket, though she had always down her best to keep them as flat as possible.

“Of course I did. You never looked in my bag?”

“No, it was yours.” He protested, but Riona had already found what she was looking for.

“Now, if this was you trying to remember my face, I have a few comments to make. I’ll have you know, my nose is nowhere near that small.”

Though they were on their way to resume her life in Kirkwall, she and Fenris enjoyed their time living in the moment. Allowing their journey home to be much more leisurely than it had been on the way north. Time to talk to each other was their luxury, courting as if it was the first time, while they were also able to avoid difficult questions about what awaited them on their return to Kirkwall.

Their other companions made jovial comments about letting Riona and Fenris pitch camp on their own, separate from the rest but for now, she was perfectly happy with the simple fact of having him there, touching him, looking over at him to check that he was truly there, only to find him glancing back at her with the same dazed expression in his eyes.

They had found peace in each other.

It took a little time for Riona to get used to falling asleep at night again, but even once her sleeping pattern had shifted, she always had been the first to rise. That gave her the chance to take some time alone, finding a spot facing east where she could watch the morning sunrise. She thought it was the most beautiful time of day. So still, so colourful, a promise for a new day, the whole day to enjoy as she pleased.

That wasn’t to say that she didn’t enjoy the evenings, when she and Fenris often watched the sunset together, sinking to the horizon and sending beautiful orange and pink rays across the encroaching purples and blues of the sky.

Even in their relaxed journey, they found that the team they had made were surprisingly effective together. Riona and Fenris worked side by side, whatever came their way, whether the task was gathering firewood or hunting for a meal, to fighting in the front lines against bandits they continued to meet on the Highway back south.

Merrill was a source of wisdom in survival techniques while living off the land, while Varric provided companionable banter when they were lagging. This, on occasion, led to he and Sebastian comparing their weapons of choice. The young prince failed to understand the appeal in Varric’s clunky crossbow - something Riona could happily dispute almost as easily as Varric, after all the information she had learnt about Bianca in their time travelling through eastern Thedas.

They even went as far as setting up targets to compare their weapons and only succeeding in proving that they were both deadly accurate marksmen. And that they were hopeless with each other’s weapons.

Eventually however, their path led them back to Kirkwall. All Riona wanted to do was walk boldly through the main gate with Fenris on her arm, despite the others’ trepidation. She drew him to her and brazenly met the eyes of everyone who threw them sideways glances. Of course she knew that she was loudly announcing her presence back in the city, and so it was expected that she would finally come to visit the grave of her father.

That experience was the first time since the curse was broken that she truly wanted to be alone. Though it was a beautiful position in the Kirkwall memorial cemetery for the nobles to place a lasting reminder of their loved ones, next to the Amell crypt, she felt cold as she looked at it. It didn’t seem to feel anything like her father, a clean cut stone, fresh flowers seen to by an attendant from the Circle. She left the memorial and found Fenris waiting steadfastly outside the locked gate for her, his arms quickly wrapped around her as she sobbed into his jerkin.

However, the place she truly felt her father’s memory preserved was in the small clinic almost underneath her house. There, people had grown to love and depend on her father and the small collection of offerings and memories left there by the people he had helped meant more to her than any of the townspeople that had impassively paid their polished respects.

Her life had to go on, and if it hadn’t been for Fenris, she wasn’t sure what she might have done to get through each day in the house.

Too soon, things set in motion that left Hawke little time to think back on what she had missed. Always, everywhere, she had Fenris by her side to remind her of what they had been through – and conquered. If anyone in Kirkwall knew anything of what had happened in Minrathous, if news of that had spread, they were doing a good job of hiding it.

Things changed once more the day that Hawke received a messenger from Varric, telling her to meet him at the Hanged Man to discuss a new proposition. Of course Fenris came along, complaining about the dwarf’s tendency to stick his nose where it wasn’t needed.

Hawke made straight for Corff and his ready supply of questionable alcohol, only to stop short as she reached the bar. Around the corner, looking back at her with matching shock in her eyes, was none other than Isabela.

The pirate looked exactly as Riona remembered, the familiar scarf tying most of her hair back from her face, cheeks reddened as if she’d just stepped off the bow of a ship. Or spent the day at a bar.

They ran to each other and immediately pulled each other into a tight embrace. Isabela hummed in approval and Riona pulled her head back to frown playfully at her, only to see the woman’s eyes widen and she gasped in shock. Her gaze was directed over Riona’s shoulder and she knew exactly what it was.

Riona’s own smile brightened as she stepped backwards to tug Fenris up to her side.

“You’re…both…how?” She stuttered and then laughed. “Who cares how, this calls for celebration!”

She turned to the bar and gestured to Corff, even as Riona remembered why she had first come to the tavern. “I can’t today Bela, I-”

“Corff, a pitcher of your finest swill.” She called and Fenris turned to mutter in Hawke’s ear.

“Varric’s already spotted us.”

Relieved she didn’t have to worry about ditching Varric with no explanation, she turned to see the dwarf walking down the stairs from the back rooms. He had a wry grin aimed at Isabela, but didn’t seem surprised to see her here.

“Don’t worry Hawke, this is a catch up I need to hear.” He waved aside her concerns and in short order had acquired a table for them all to gather around.

It was a rowdy evening, and entirely joyous. Isabela had many a story to fill in the time since they last saw her and plenty of questions to ask them. Especially when it meant avoiding their questions on how it came to be that she was here in Kirkwall when her ship crashed.

However the evening didn’t quite end when they left, as both Isabela and Varric decided to follow Hawke back home, ostensibly so Isabela could see the fancy house she had decided to leave behind. Varric simply didn’t want to miss the pirate’s reaction.

“You’re just coming in to have a look, and then come visit at a better time, right Bela?” Hawke tried to get the promise from her and failed as the pirate swiftly changed topic.

“Did you hear that shout?”

“Bela? I mean it, my mother will not be impressed.”

“No seriously.” Isabela giggled at her raised eyebrow and waved a hand for quiet at Riona. “That’s someone fighting. Let’s go see what’s going on.”

“I’m certain that’s a bad idea.” Fenris began but Isabela was already walking to the stairs that led further down into Lowtown. Instinctively, Riona found her hand on the hilt of her dagger as soon as her ears had picked up on the sounds of a skirmish happening nearby.

Whether charging into it was a good idea or not, Riona wasn’t too keen to see the friend she had just reunited with get skewered that same evening.

“Hawke!” Fenris shouted after her, as she was already striding to follow the pirate but Varric’s voice answered, as he also trotted after her.

“There’s no stopping her, elf.”

“Not a chance.” Fenris replied and even with her feet pedalling down the steps, she heard the warmth in his voice as it sent a tingle right through her. Either that or the rush of adrenaline meant that she was feeling considerably more steady than the ale she had consumed would suggest when she turned the corner to see the fight they were breaking in on.

Isabela had waited at the entrance to the alley for them and was carefully watching the participants, likely to figure out whose side to jump in on.

There were five, no six, men in tattered clothes wielding back alley knives and battered swords. They were attacking a man already on the ground, looking as if he had been interrupted before he was able to reach for the scabbarded sword at his hip. An ambush then. Meanwhile a woman with a substantial, polished sword stood her ground, her orange hair and scarf almost out of place down this dingy street.

Riona made out the crest of a city guard on the woman’s chestplate as she skilfully blocked one attack and suffered a blow to her side from another attacker taking advantage of her distraction. Even as she staggered backwards, the redhead caught sight of the observers and hissed, “Stay back, this area is not safe.”

Riona could almost have laughed at the suicidal formality of that, but she was already darting forwards to sink a blade into the nearest thug’s back. She didn’t have time to wonder what gall would lead to someone ambushing a member of the City Guard, until they held one last man at sword point and Riona and Varric went to discover whether the subject of the ambush had actually survived.

By some miracle, his eyelids fluttered as she tapped at his cheek. Meanwhile, the dangerous redhead quickly dispatched the final man standing.

The other guardsman on the ground slowly opened his eyes and squinted at Riona as she leaned over him.

“Who are…” His eyes scanned past her as the other woman quickly knelt by her at his movement. “Ave- Aveline? You’re a beautiful sight.”

Varric and Riona exchanged significant looks of approval, applauding his swift switch from unconscious to smooth talking in seconds. The redhead, Aveline, helped him to his feet, and moments later Riona was pulled to her own by a gauntleted hand and an unimpressed look. She quietly mouthed “What? He’s good.”

Fenris deliberately turned to watch what Aveline and her guardsman were doing, but at the same time he let his hand brush against her side. She gently tapped her gauntlets against his own, it had become an almost subconscious ritual that allowed them to make sure of the other’s presence, nearby as always.

The armoured strangers had been discussing what they had been doing there. Apparently this had been a rescue attempt on Aveline’s part after she found out about the ambush. Riona couldn’t say she was unimpressed by the fight the woman had been putting up even before they got there. After their short conversation, Aveline turned to face the four of them, now hovering a little awkwardly.

“My thanks for your help. I don’t know who you are but I owe you my life, both of us do. How can we repay you?”

Such gratitude was not something Hawke was used to. However, she couldn’t deny that it felt rather good.

“Please, don’t. I’d just recommend you avoid wandering into known ambushes with no backup.”

“Woah there Hawke, let’s not turn down a gratuity purse too quickly.” Isabela quickly responded and Riona couldn’t help smiling at the predictable pirate.

Aveline gave Isabela a slow look up and down before turning back to Riona. “Hawke, as in the Amell-Hawke’s of Hightown? I’ve heard that name. I would appreciate if you could find some time to come by the Guard’s Barracks in the Viscount’s Keep, sometime tomorrow, or this week?”

Riona shifted a little and looked at Fenris, who simply shook his head with indifference. “Yes, I can do that.” She replied but her attention was drawn to the other man, who stumbled slightly and fell more heavily on Aveline. “But he’s not looking too good, perhaps I should walk you back to his house. Or the barracks.”

“It’s alright Hawke, I got this. You can get yourselves away.” Varric spoke over the woman now trying to refuse their help.

“If you’re certain,” Riona said to him, even as she wondered how he might be able to help the man almost twice his height. “Wait Varric, we never got to talk about whatever you wanted to talk to me about.”

“Oh that. I’ll explain later. Tomorrow. It’s just an opportunity my brother and I have come up with. We think you and Fenris would be perfect for it.” He waved away, as he went to the stumbling guard’s side.

“Hmm, sounds interesting at least. When you buy me a pint to discuss it.” She smiled, then without dragging it out after she found herself dismissed, turned to leave them to it. She made sure to give a quick one armed hug to Isabela in farewell then began walking back to her house with Fenris at her side.

The sun was long since set, the night was as dark as it had ever been in the years she had wandered it alone.

But now, it didn’t harbour anywhere near the loneliness it once had.

Tap, her fingers met his and tap, as he returned the gesture.

The city had changed since she left it and came back. There was news she had completely missed, tales of war and rumours of blight in Fereldan.

And there were other things to worry about. Just since they got back, she had noticed the presence of Qunari in the city, something that had not been known in Kirkwall for many years.

Strange things were happening. But she didn’t feel half as worried as she once had for what tomorrow might bring, because finally, she had Fenris with her.

Nothing was ever simple. But she wanted things to not be simple with Fenris by her side. At least that she could depend on, as sure as night follows day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has read this story, your comments and views have meant everything to keeping me writing.
> 
> I also realise that usually epilogues finish a story off, while mine is leaving it wide open for an adventure that we all know pretty well. I do not plan to write that, however, i'm pretty attached to my Lady Hawke and her Fenris' story. So i'm definitely open for people to ask questions about how their story changes. Send me prompts on tumblr if you'd like to know more about anything in particular. You can find me at [lyriumrebel](lyriumrebel.tumblr.com)
> 
> In the mean time, AHHHH it's finished! It's actually finished!!


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